


buy a big house where we both could live

by lacecat



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, M/M, Post-Canon Fix-It, Slow Burn, domestic fluff turned adventure tale
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-16
Updated: 2021-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-14 13:34:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 40,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28796232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lacecat/pseuds/lacecat
Summary: Din trails behind them and reminds himself this is temporary. He’ll make sure they get to the temple safe, and once he’s sure that Luke agrees to continue training Grogu, he’ll leave them.Grogu reaches up with his hand to tug at the edge of Luke’s shirt, and Din’s fingers flex at his sides.This is the way, he tells himself.
Relationships: Din Djarin/Luke Skywalker
Comments: 225
Kudos: 755





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first thing Din sees is the Jedi’s eyes, cool and steady on his face.
> 
> The second is Grogu, his little hand still clutched into the fabric of the Jedi’s robes, and the longing that swells up in him at the sight is far stronger than anything else he’s felt today. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so I watched both seasons of the series in a few weeks and somehow ended up here!!!!!
> 
> got this idea of writing something that twisted the end of the last episode of a bit, then selecting which parts of star wars canon/future events that I want to include versus utterly ignore, and now I am fully making this into what could shortly be called "casual touches turn into something more between two co-parents who both vaguely flirt from afar", aka "din doesn't realize why luke skywalker is and luke is kinda into the hot mysterious dad". for once I am hoping to finish a WIP very quickly and will be posting part 2/? soon!!
> 
> edit: please pretend for all of this that you can fit 2 men and a baby in an X-wing. I realized this way too late and now am STUCK WITH THAT. I feel like it's very in character for Luke Skywalker to fit his ship with a very uncomfortable extra seat so he can have a copilot xoxo
> 
> (i am solidly in the ~just use lyrics~ titling for fanfics camp, don't @ me for using Your Song for this :'))) )
> 
> finally, drop by on tumblr to say hi! I'm @villanellve

As the elevator doors close, Din feels numb, first. Then there’s an acute pain shooting through his limbs, making him take an unsteady step backwards.

He’s seen it before - parents on their knees, begging for their children’s sake, and he’s always thought the gesture was to reinforce the plea, a gesture to underline their words. He hadn’t counted on the physical sensation of grief to make his knees buckle at this moment himself, at the idea that he won't see Grogu for a very long time, if ever again. 

It’s not like before, when fury and fear at Moff Gideon and his dark troopers had overwhelmed his senses, had galvanized him into action so that he didn’t have time to feel anything else. The helmet's still in his hands, but he doesn't move, because there’s a good chance he’s about to stagger to the ground with this feeling, because Grogu is safe and alive but he’s _taking him away, he has to let the Jedi take him but why does it have to hurt like this -_

He hears the others moving behind him, speaking in hushed tones as if not to disturb him - or maybe he's tuning them out, any quarrel utterly insignificant now. They still have Gideon to worry about, after all. Even the reminder that he’s not alone doesn’t stop him at this point.

It might be only a few minutes that go by, but it could be hours, days, Din would believe it - and then, impossibly, he hears the sound of the elevator whirring. 

He thinks that he made it up, only then the elevator beeps once, clear and loud enough to cut through the background noise. Din doesn’t have the sense to pick up a weapon, just watches, stunned, as the doors slide open again.

He can hear the others scramble in case it’s another legion of dark troopers, and he thinks it’s Cara who steps behind him, ready to defend.

The first thing Din sees is the Jedi’s eyes, cool and steady on his face.

The second is Grogu, his little hand still clutched into the fabric of the Jedi’s robes, and the longing that swells up in him at the sight is far stronger than anything else he’s felt today.

Din wonders if this is some kind of sick trick, because he can’t fathom why the Jedi could otherwise hate him enough to drag out this torture. Maybe he’s giving the Child one last look before they depart - or maybe he’s giving Din one last look, some cruelty played off as mercy. The Jedi spoke kindly to him before, but there's no rational explanation for this. 

Din opens his mouth, then closes it. He should ask why he came back. He should ask what he thinks he’s doing - he should ask him something. Anything.

It’s the Jedi who speaks first, however. His eyes are fixed on Din, and he says to him, “Come with us.”

And Din -

Din rises to his feet.

\---

It only occurs to him when they’re departing the ship that he’s just abandoned everything to follow the Jedi. He’s still got the dark saber at his hip, and it’s a testament to how surprised everyone on the bridge was to see the Jedi and the Child again that Bo-Katan didn’t demand a more thorough explanation from him before he left them.

Now, Din sits in the jumpseat, holding Grogu to his chest. The kid burps, his small hand still stretched out and gripping onto the lower part of his helmet. There’s a droid behind him in the ship, but Din can’t muster the energy to care. Not when he can see tiny fingers out of the edge of his visor, his weight a comforting presence in his arms.

The Jedi hasn’t spoken since they slipped into hyperspace. Din vaguely wonders if he’s a pilot, given the ease with which he had slid into the seat and flown them away.

He pushes away his thoughts in favor of the more pressing concerns, however. He’s well aware that this might only be a temporary reprieve, that the Jedi could decide to leave him on the next planet and that would be it. Din boarded the X-Wing out of the selfish desire to stay with Grogu for even a few hours more, and he knows it can’t last long.

Mindreader or not, he knows that if - _when_ the time comes, that the Jedi is the only one who can provide Grogu with what he needs, that he will do so even if Din were to disagree. Not that Din would fight him on it. He had been ready to do it back there on the bridge, after all. It would rip a final hole in his heart, but he knows what he has to go. He won’t be too selfish by then, not when the Child needs the Jedi more than he needs him.

But before he can speak, the Jedi says, “He’s your child, for all purposes. When I sensed that, I came back.”

The words catch him off guard. From the little that he knows about his people, Din wonders if he could read minds. “You sensed it?”

  
  
“I mean I felt…” and the Jedi hesitates, maybe sensing Din’s growing unease, “You were in great pain at being parted. I apologize for not seeing it sooner.”

He doesn’t care for the implication that this man, helmet or not, can read him so easily, Jedi or not. “You came back,” Din says. “Why?”

“I did it for him,” the Jedi says, and he leaves it at that. The droid makes some whirring sound behind him, and Din sees the Jedi dip his chin ever so slightly, eyes still in front of him.

Din interrupts the droid, asks, “Where are you taking him?”

“I’m starting a school,” the Jedi says, flicking a switch on the panel in front of him, “We’ll take him back there, where he’ll be safe.”

“A school?”

“It’s for others like him who are sensitive to the Force,” the Jedi says. “I’ll teach them their history and to control their powers, as my master did for me.”

Din pictures a gaggle of children surrounding the Jedi, all with tiny, dangerous sabers of their own. “Are you taking in foundlings?”

“Not all,” the Jedi says. “It will serve as a home for long as they remain under my tutelage.”

“I thought Jedis took children,” Din says because he has no reason to hide his misgivings about this man’s plan. “What if they want to leave?”

“Then I let them go,” the Jedi says. “The life, it’s not for everyone.” He speaks a little oddly, voice tinged with something not quite like nostalgia. “I had just started to reach out to find others when I heard Grogu’s call. I told them that I’d find them.”

“You trust too easily,” Din tells him, because searching means drawing attention to yourself, leaving yourself to be ambushed at best, even followed back to your planet and attacked there, where you’re vulnerable. If the Jedi has been searching for others who can use the Force, then there must be others looking to take advantage of those inexperienced - or more like those not yet powerful enough. Bounty hunters would be among his lesser concerns, to say the least.

He tells him as much, and the Jedi has the audacity to look _amused_. “Maybe so, Mandalorian.”

Din bites down his first response. “Do you think you’ll be able to defend them all? Against others like Moff Gideon?”

“I think I’ll manage,” the Jedi says dryly, and Din thinks of green light cutting through a squadron of troopers. “Anyways, I suppose I’ll have you too, now, for their protection.”

  
Din stares out in front of them, into the near-nothingness of blank, white hyperspace. “I’m here for the Child. Once it’s… suitable, I’ll leave.” He wills down the immediate feeling that tamps up, not wanting a repeat - or forbid, any words of _comfort_ from the Jedi. Grogu’s tiny fingers grasp onto his helmet a little more, tugging his head down ever so slightly.

He shouldn’t be here in the first place, and yet. Here he is.

The Jedi merely says, “As you wish.”

“I shouldn’t trust you, Jedi,” Din says, finally. “And you shouldn’t trust me.”

“Luke,” the Jedi says, and Din can see the corner of his mouth quirk. “My name is Luke.”  
  


\---

Perhaps as not to give Din a chance to be parted from them - either to reassure him, or to make sure he can’t run away, he’s not sure - they don’t make any stops on their way to Yavin 4.

His exhaustion getting the better of him, Din falls asleep at some point, with Grogu tucked against his chest. He doesn’t dream, not quite - but flashes of light interrupt his slumber at points. It’s as if they’re seared into the backs of his eyelids, causing him to start awake for the briefest moments before slipping back under just as quickly.

When he finally wakes up, they’ve just started their descent onto the moon. Out of the front screen, Din can see that the land is lush, covered in thick greenery interrupted by swirls of the deep blue sea. It would be difficult to land for even experienced pilots, but the Jedi - Luke - eases the X-Wing down through the thick layer of clouds and then through the trees, as if he knows exactly where to land.

They come to a point just above a long, grassy clearing, hovering in the air. “Hold on,” Luke says as he nudges the thrusters forward. Din’s fingers clench on the seat below him as the trees suddenly get much closer, bracing for impact.

Then he sees where Luke is aiming, to where the earth opens up. You would only be able to aim for it if you knew about its existence - and the ship enters the ground without even a whisper of resistance. 

It’s some kind of cave, the X-Wing just barely fitting through the gaps between rock formations. Luke guides the X-Wing until they come to a stop at the far end of the cavern, pulling the switches until the engine dies.

Din finally loosens his grip on the seat as the ship shudders to a halt. Already unfastening his seatbelt, Luke says, “We’ll have to hike the rest of the way to the temple. There’s an abandoned village about halfway where we’ll make camp tonight.”

Din gently nudges Grogu awake, rising with him. “And the ship?”

Luke nods. “Artoo - “ and he must be referring to the droid, who literally lights up at his words, “ - will stay with the ship until I make sure we weren’t followed here. Are you ready to depart?”

Din just sighs. “Yeah.” It must be a trick of the light because he would swear he sees a smirk come across the Jedi’s face - before it’s gone just as quickly as he had glimpsed it.

\---

It takes some clambering over rock ledges, but they exit the cave without any incidents. Outside, the sun is already starting its rapid descent in the sky. The forest looms all around them, devoid of any birdsong or other chatter that he might expect from the ecosystem, the only sound the occasional whistle of wind through the thicket.

The Jedi sets off into the forest without any other word, apparently intent on their destination above all. Din makes sure Grogu is safely tucked under his arm before following him.

They traipse through the trees in silence, Din keeping an eye on the back of the other man’s head to navigate. The path has clearly only recently been broken - occasionally, Luke will raise his hand, and the vines twist and unravel before them before Din can think to draw a knife to cut them.

The air is blessedly cool, especially as night falls around them. Din lifts his visor so he can see the Jedi better, and Grogu gurgles something, maybe copying Luke as he carves another pass through the trees for them.

It’s not too long before they come across a clearing. There are several wooden huts, clearly constructed out of the cut-down woods around them, and built upon the hill so they overlook the surrounding forest. There’s a fire pit in the center of them, wood helpfully stacked to the side of it, and mossy rocks that scatter well into the treeline.

“That’s it for today,” Luke says. “We’ll stay for the night.” He unclips his cloak but leaves it over his shoulders. 

“Rustic,” Din mutters to himself, setting the Child down on one of the larger rocks. “Does anyone else know you’re out here?”

  
  
“Only my sister and her husband,” Luke says, then breezily, “You start a fire, I’ll find the supplies.”

  
  
Din complies, as Luke goes into the nearest hut. He sets up the wood and starts up a flame with a quick blast from his armor - efficient if a little overkill - with a fire going by the time Luke returns with what appear to be field ration packs.

  
They all sit around the fire. Grogu eagerly tears into his ration pack, only to make a grimace at the first taste of it. “Hush,” Din says quietly to him, picking it back up and handing it to him. “Eat your food.”

The kid complies with only a short whine, likely because he’s hungry enough to eat anything at this point. When Din glances over, Luke’s face is illuminated by the flames as he eats.

He’s young, Din thinks distantly, even in this light with his features cast into the sharp contrast of gold and black.The Jedi meets Din’s gaze as if sensing his thoughts, or maybe his eyes on him. Din breaks eye contact and stirs his ration. He doesn’t blame Grogu - it looks unappetizing, even though he can’t remember the last time he ate.

  
Eventually, Luke says, “It’s quiet here. It’ll help him focus his training.”

“Quiet with the Force, you mean?” Din asks. Even with Ahsoka’s explanation back on Corvus, he knows that there’s a lot he doesn’t understand about it all. The concept of something so vague being so powerful - and Grogu having that power - and still unknown to him, fills him with not a small amount of unease.

A faint smile comes across Luke’s face. “My master’s last wish was for me to train a new generation of Jedi. To rebuild what was lost - and after the war, I knew I had to set out to discover what I didn’t know about the Jedi. To build a new order, the way that it should be.”

“You fought in the war?” Din asks, swallowing down another bite.

Luke clears his throat at that - or perhaps the ration packs aren’t to his taste, either.Either way, he splutters for a moment before answering. “Yes. I - was a pilot.”

“Were you stationed here, then?”

“For a time,” Luke says rather evasively, then asks, “You don’t know much about the Jedi - or the war, do you?”

Din gives a minute shrug, barely visible past his armor. “I was a bounty hunter.” Two can play at this game, as he gives no further clarification.

“How did you come across him?” Luke asks instead of pressing, nodding to Grogu.

“He didn’t tell you?”

“I’d like to hear it from you.” Luke’s eyes bear no judgment, and Din stops stirring his ration pack.

  
“He was a bounty,” Din says, after a beat. “A droid was about to kill him, and I stopped it. Ever since I’ve been searching for wherever he was from. Once I found out about his powers, I was looking for a Jedi.”

“It is amazing,” Luke says, “The bond that you both share.”

His words hold no malice, but something in Din shifts uncomfortably, and he exhales through his teeth. “Someone told me,” Din says, recalling the words, “That his attachment to me - that it will only make him vulnerable to his fears.”  
  
  
“The Jedi were taught to forsake attachments,” Luke confirms. From where he’s leaning against Din’s shins, Grogu tilts his head up, studying Luke across the flames, with an openness that Din wishes he could do the same. “That emotion clouds judgment and disrupts one’s commitment to the order.”

“So by being here - “ Din starts, but he doesn’t get a chance to finish.

There’s a low, vicious growl from beyond the treeline, from somewhere behind the Jedi. Din instantly springs to his feet, mirrored by Luke who whirls around.

Din pushes Grogu, who’s wide-eyed and silent, behind him with his foot, says, “What is it?“

Luke’s already drawn his lightsaber; the greenish glow brighter than any flame. “It’s a vornskr."

“A _what_?”

  
“They can sense the Force,” Luke says, grimly, “It must have tracked us here. When I say go - “

Din scoops up Grogu in one arm, blaster in his other hand. “Can you fight it?”  
  
  
“There’s not really another option,” Luke tells him, just as there’s another growl, even closer. “It’s going to come after me, then Grogu. Get in the hut - “

Even with the limited source of light, Din can see when the vornskr pounces. The trees shift, and then the massive _thing_ hurtles out, right at Luke.

It’s all sleek, dark muscle, with dog-like pointed ears, and a long, spiked tail that whips out at the same time. Din dives to the side, keeping Grogu tucked safely at his side as Luke swings the light saber right at the creature.

Luke must do something with his powers, because Din is suddenly sliding along with Grogu to the front of the hut, dragged along the ground like they’ve been pushed. Across the clearing, the vornskr growls even louder, swinging a large paw that makes Luke duck, rolling to the side to avoid getting slashed at.

Din pushes up off the ground, focusing entirely on getting Grogu to safety. He gets to the door - luckily, the wood appears to be reinforced by some metal - when he hears Luke give a shout, and there’s another fearsome roar.

He deposits Grogu on the ground inside, tells him harshly, “Stay _here_ ,“ before he’s closing the door and turning back around, just in time to see the vornskr knock Luke to the ground.

The thing opens his jaws right over the Jedi’s face, saliva dripping down onto the dirt and the Jedi. Din fires directly at its chest. The shots seem to bounce off of it, and he has a most unpleasant flashback to the mudhorn incident as the vornskr abandons the Jedi in favor of charging right at him.

“The tail!” Luke shouts, “Watch out for the tail - “ as Din swerves, blasting the flamethrower right into the beast’s face.

The vornskr roars, and he can smell singed fur. It rears back, the tail coming back around and hitting him squarely in the chest with a clang.

Din flies back, crashing against the side of the hut. He wheezes, slowed down by the collision, and he attempts to scramble back on his feet.

But rather than finishing him off there, the vornskr turns back to Luke, who’s clearly his preferred prey. Its body gets low to the ground, as in anticipation of a pounce. Din aims his blaster right at the back of its neck, a soft place where its bones look to meet -

But before he can pull the trigger, Luke is charging forward, leaping in the air and bringing down the saber in a devastating blow. Din can only make out the flash of green light just before it buries itself in the creature, and then the vornskr makes a choking sound, before it collapses to the ground, tail lolling to the side as it lets out one loud, shuddering sound, then going silent.

Over the vornskr’s head, he can see Luke, panting heavily. Din slowly lowers his blaster, steps forward. “Is it dead?”

“The tail got me,” Luke says instead, and Din sees how pale his face is. That’s all the warning he gets before the Jedi drop heavily to his knees, rasps out, “Grogu - “

  
Din hurries to his side, grabbing at his shoulders. “Safe in the hut,” he answers, and Luke exhales, his eyes closing. He starts to go limp, and Din swears, “ _Dank farrik_ \- come on, stay awake - “

He hoists the Jedi from beneath his shoulders, manages to drag him over to where the fire is still burning. There’s a creak that he recognizes as the door, and then Grogu is right there, making distressed noises.

“Shh,” Din says, in some attempt to comfort him, “Come on, wake up - “

Luke’s eyes are closed as Din tears off the cloak, searching for any sign of injury. He finds it on his upper arm, a line of red where one of the spikes must have cut him. The wound itself isn’t severe, but he can hear Luke’s breathing shift, getting more and more shallow.

“You’re not dying on me today,” Din tells him, already using some of his dark cloak to bandage the wound. There must have some kind of medpac around - or he’ll have to hike back to the ship, get that drone to do _something._ “You Jedi probably turn into strange ghosts, and I won’t have you haunting me and the kid forever.”

That gets a hoarse laugh, from somewhere deep in his chest. So he’s not entirely unconscious. “Not… fatal…”

He’s still stiffening in Din’s grasp, though, which doesn’t bode well. In his haste to make some kind of plan come to mind, Din doesn’t realize that Grogu is reaching for him. Not until he glances down and sees tiny hands on the Jedi’s other arm, and then he sees how Grogu’s eyes are sliding shut with concentration.

“Wait - _damn it_ \- “ Din starts, but it’s too late. The wound on Luke’s arm starts to close up, then fade from his skin entirely.

Not deterred, a small line appears between the kid’s eyes, and then he sways forward, right into Luke’s chest.

  
Then Luke is opening his eyes, incredibly blue even in the dim light.

They fall on Din’s helmet first. “What - “ His eyes quickly go to Grogu, then. “Did he _heal_ me?”

  
  
“He did,” Din says, and he gently picks Grogu up, who’s already snoring. “I’ve seen him do it before.” As much as he hates that Grogu clearly strains himself to do it, he’s glad to see the Jedi awake. 

“It was only a paralytic,” Luke says, a little helplessly, and he pushes himself up to his elbows with a grimace, closing his eyes. “The vornskr - they hunt in packs.”

Alarm races through him. “There are more out there?”

  
“I don’t sense any others close by,” Luke says, opening his eyes at last, like he’s been scanning the area with - the Force, or something. “They’re not native to this planet- which means that either they’ve spontaneously evolved here in the past few years, or - “

“Or someone’s brought one to a planet that you’re planning to train Force-sensitive children,” Din says flatly. “Great.”

“We’ll be better protected at the temple after all,” Luke says, then sighs. “We should go tonight-“ and he actually tries to push himself up at that, before Din puts his hand right on his chest, stopping him.

“We’ll go first thing in the morning,” Din says, firm. Luke glances from his hand to him, and opens his mouth. “No. It’s not just you - the kid needs to sleep.”

Luke’s hard gaze softens. “Fine,” he says, “Tomorrow.” He reaches out to touch Grogu’s head, where he’s fast asleep against Din’s chest, and gently sliding his hand between his ears. In doing so, his knuckles brush against beskar, and Din experiences the phantom sensation as if he’s touching him directly.

Rather than process that, Din shifts, and as carefully as he can manage, he moves to help Luke to his feet without dropping Grogu. He throws one of Luke’s arms over his neck, feels Luke’s fingers dig into the edge of his cuirass to steady himself.

Once they’re fully upright, Luke sways a little into his side, says, “Might be best if we stay together. The hut to the left - there’s some bedding.”

Din complies. The paralytic clearly is still fading from his system, and they make it there, slowly but surely, Luke’s grasp tightening around his neck every couple of steps.

There’s a cot in the corner of the hut, which Din slides Luke onto, ignoring his protests about taking the floor. He snags the remnants of the Jedi’s cloak for Grogu, laying it onto the ground in a makeshift pile as a bed, and settling him there next.

Din himself lays down on the ground, finding it cool but not unbearable with his armor protecting him from the worst of the dampness. He’s slept in far worse conditions than this, after all. All he can hear is Luke’s breathing across the room, the faint sights that Grogu gives off in his sleep from much closer.

In the darkness, he realizes, Luke can’t see his face. He weighs it, realizing that Luke has already seen him - and he’ll need to be on high alert tomorrow, with a full suit of beskar not exactly leading to a restful sleep to aid in that.

Din reaches up, and after another moment of hesitation, pulls it off, the helmet disengaging with a quiet hiss. The air cools his flushed face instantly, and he can feel the breeze curl lazily through his hair. 

He’s never slept without his helmet in the presence of other people. Across the room, he can hear Luke shift, but he doesn’t say anything.Din closes his eyes, too exhausted to weigh the risk now.

He’s rewarded with a quick, dreamless sleep this time, slipping into slumber without any thought.

\---

He stirs eventually, the dawn light creeping in from a sole window on the far wall, only to discover that Grogu is no longer in the hut. Neither is Luke, and he gets up quickly, grabbing his helmet as he makes for the door.

The panic is temporary, when he hears a low voice from outside, then Grogu’s answering chirp.   
  


“He’s out here,” Luke calls, clearly for his benefit, then, “There’s breakfast.”

Din scrubs a hand over his face, putting back on his helmet.

Outside, he finds them by the fire, the pile of wood now reduced to faint smoke, with both of them cross-legged across from each other. Rather ridiculously, Din feels like he’s overslept, as he tries to subtly adjust his armor while standing and not interrupt their - meditation, or whatever is happening here.

Opening his eyes, Luke picks up one of the remaining ration packs by him. But instead of handing it over to Din, he says to Grogu, “Try it now.”

Din watches as Grogu, his eyes still shut, lifts his hand. After a moment, the pack lifts out of Luke’s open hand, drifting through the air to hit Din’s chest.

He catches it, says, “Thanks, kid.”

Luke smiles, brilliantly, and turns back to Grogu. “Very good,” he praises, and Grogu’s ears twitch in satisfaction. “He’s already getting better at control.”

They both look far better this morning, Luke’s face relaxed and open, and Grogu content on the ground, an empty ration pack by him. Din says,“Training already?”

“Grogu woke up early and nudged me awake too,” Luke answers, uncrossing his legs. “Did you sleep well?”  
  


Din looks down, adjusting his gloves. “I’m fine. Are we going to the temple now?”

“Once we eat, yes,” Luke says. He gets up, then, brushing off his trousers. Without the cloak, his shoulders are bared in a sleeveless shirt, his arms both muscular and yet paler than he’d expected. Din looks away before he can be caught staring.

Grogu, as if mirroring the Jedi, gets up too, toddling over to Din. Din holds out his hand, and Grogu’s tiny fingers grasp onto his.

“You’re wearing your helmet now,” Luke says, but pauses. He seems uncharacteristically hesitant for a moment, eyes flicking from Din to the ground as he glances at him. “I was careful to look away, this morning when I got up - but I wondered why.”

_That he took it off, or that he’s wearing it now?_ “I’ve worn the helmet since I was a boy. Until recently,” Din says steadily enough, “No one else has seen my face.”

He’d do it a thousand times again since it meant saving Grogu, even if it meant breaking the Creed for good. Maybe that’s part of the reason why Din feels thrown off-center around him, that Luke has seen his face and they’re both skirting around any significance of that act. (Of course, his traitorous brain reminds him, Migs Mayfeld has seen him without his helmet, and Mayfeld never made him feel so many impossibly conflicting emotions at once in such a short amount of time).

Luke says, “Other Mandalorians choose not to.” It doesn’t sound like a question, but Din nods. “I would have looked away,” Luke says next, and is he _apologetic?_ “Had I known the significance for you.”

“I knew what I was doing when I took it off,” Din insists, surprising himself by how short he sounds. Luke glances over as if he can see through said helmet at that very moment, as Din says, “You don’t need to - apologize.”

Luke nods once, slowly. Thankfully, he changes the topic, although not to a more comforting conversation. “Grogu showed me his time on the ship when he was captured - it’s mixed together in his head, and I didn’t wish him to relive it, but I had to know.”  
  
  
The implicit question there makes something sour curl inside his stomach. Din thinks of Gideon holding the dark saber over the kid's head in the brig, the scientist’s hurried explanation as Din looked at him and felt nothing but _rage_ \- “They took his blood for some sick experiment. I don’t know much beyond that, but they weren’t willing to let him go easily.” Not that he would ever give any of them a chance again, over his dead body.

Grogu whines, and Din squeezes his fingers ever so lightly. Luke’s face darkens, but instead of saying something to that, he says, “Eat. Then we can go.”  
  
  


This time, when Luke takes off, Grogu follows him closely instead of staying back with Din. They must be communicating through the Force, given the significant looks that Luke gives Grogu every once in a while as he helps him through the terrain.

Din trails behind them and reminds himself _this is temporary._ He’ll make sure they get to the temple safe, and once he’s sure that Luke agrees to continue training Grogu, he’ll leave them.

Grogu reaches up with his hand to tug at the edge of Luke’s shirt, and Din’s fingers flex at his sides.

This is the way, he tells himself.

\---


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Luke leads them into the temple, pushing through two towering doors with a flick of his hand from the front, where they open onto a massive room - one that must have been for some ceremonial purpose, he guesses. Small creatures scatter under the light they bring in, seeking refuge in the shadows as they make their way inside. Din keeps a hand by his blaster, just in case. 
> 
> “So this is the Jedi Temple,” Din says out loud. Grogu makes an inquisitive sound, and Din sets him down on the floor. “It’s very… majestic.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know nothing about sandstorms! enjoy this update - just a little angstier as a treat, and soon I can get into actual, you know, plot-plot, maybe

It takes less than half a day to get to the Jedi Temple.

The temple is a massive, pyramidal structure covered in vines and leaves, looking more like it hasn’t been used in decades rather than years. Standing outside of it, it’s even more gigantic than he had pictured in his head, even for a rebel alliance base. Plants must grow much faster on this planet, he thinks, creeping into places left undisturbed, filling in the ridges and edges of the stone.

Luke leads them into the temple, pushing through two towering doors with a flick of his hand from the front, where they open onto a massive room - one that must have been for some ceremonial purpose, he guesses. Small creatures scatter under the light they bring in, seeking refuge in the shadows as they make their way inside. Din keeps a hand by his blaster, just in case.

“So this is the Jedi Temple,” Din says out loud. Grogu makes an inquisitive sound, and Din sets him down on the floor. “It’s very… majestic.”

Luke doesn’t seem to mind his pause, though. “It used to be the Alliance base before it was evacuated,” he says, both of them watching as Grogu takes a few wobbling steps forward on the stone floor. “It’s strange, seeing it so empty.”

“It’s all just been abandoned since then?”

“There are a few families left in the homesteads on the moon,” Luke says as Din peers up at the temple’s sloping walls, all carved stone and natural light high above their heads, shining off the more translucent stone at their feet. “All that’s left of the colony. It’ll be just us for a few weeks living in this place though.”

Din turns to glance at him. “I thought you were seeking out your students.”  
  
  
“We’re still in the wet season,” Luke replies. Grogu totters over to where there’s a pile of moss leeching in from beneath a crack in the stone, and likely home to more critters he’ll try to eat.“There are too many storms that would be risky for the ship. The weather will soon clear up, and I can prepare this space in the meantime."

Grogu makes a curious sound, and a rock three feet away from him starts to tremble. Din asks, dryly, “Too rustic for your tastes here?”

“I grew up on Tatooine, Mandalorian,” Luke throws back just as easily. “This is practically luxurious for me.”

Before Din can think better of it, he offers, “It’s Din.” He turns away, ostensibly to pick up Grogu before he can stuff a strange-looking blue worm, unearthed from the stone, into his mouth, and maybe also away from the Jedi. He’s not sure what it means that he wants the Jedi to know his name - if the knowledge, freely given this time, will sound any stranger coming from his tongue.

“Din,” Luke says, in which Din is glad he cannot sense any kind of emotions other than his own, “I’ll show you to the quarters.”

The rooms on the second level are sparsely furnished and uniform in size, set out in a square around the perimeter of the space. It reminds him of the barracks in the Fighting Corps where he had once lived, in what seems like a lifetime ago. There are tall, paneless windows carved out of the stone, with thick fabric to either side that appears to be there to ward off the chill. Each of the rooms has a cot and a small dresser, as well as access to freshers and showers on each corner of the hallway.

Grogu makes a beeline towards one of the rooms, in particular, using the curtain to hoist himself up on one of the beds to look outside. Din, wanting to keep an eye on him to make sure he doesn’t fall out of said window, follows him inside.

It’s more spacious than the quarters on the Razor Crest ever was, though the memory of the ship makes something pang in his chest. He sets down their meager belongings - what remains of the Jedi’s cloak, the dark saber, and finally his beskar spear - on the side table, then stares out at the moon’s scenery. It’s even more beautiful up here, where the tops of the trees swim in the thick blanket of fog that the morning rolled in.

“Do you like it up here?” Din asks Grogu quietly. The kid tilts his head, his ears twitching in the cool breeze, as he blinks up at him.

“He can stay in here with you,” Luke offers from the doorway, and Din realizes that he assumes that Din is selecting a room for himself, not Grogu. “You can take another cot, or we can build something out of the spare durasteel from the hangar downstairs.”

“Thank you. This will work,” Din says, pulling the kid back from the window just a bit.

By pure muscle memory, he takes out the silver ball from his pocket - realizing with a jolt that he’s held onto it this whole time. Grogu wiggles his fingers, and it floats through the short distance between them, right into his waiting hands.

Still not quite stepping foot inside, Luke says, “The sun comes up on this side in the morning,” he says, “It's a good choice.”

“You’ll be up here?” Din asks him. 

“I’ll be in the next room over,” Luke confirms. There’s another weighty pause, as Din wonders if the Jedi is either preparing to say something or maybe more comfortable with not saying it.

“And… the droid?” Din asks to break the silence because it seems to be the polite thing to say, and besides that, he’d rather know where the thing was located at all times.  
  
  
“I’ll ask him to bring the ship to the hangar in a few more days,” the Jedi answers. “Everyone thinks that this place has been abandoned, and I’d like to keep it that way until I can make sure it’s defensible.”

Din merely bobs his head. The temple was likely siege-ready in its time, but who knows the true condition of the place in the absence of regular inhabitants.

He follows Luke’s less than subtle glance to the side table, which he assumes is regarding the ragged remnants of his cloak - hopefully, it was not some kind of Jedi heirloom, given it’s covered in more dirt and Grogu’s slobber than Din thinks anyone would tolerate.

That is, until Luke finally says, “I wanted to ask you something. You didn’t use the dark saber before, with the vornskr.”

“It carries weight with it,” Din says, both caught off guard by his question and not sure how to explain everything with Bo-Katan and the Mandalore throne easily to him. It’s something that he’s shelved in the back of his mind for now, and although the Jedi has given him no evidence of prejudice, he’s far from comfortable engaging in a conversation on politics with an outsider - a Jedi outsider, no less. Din adds, “And the blaster is less conspicuous.”

“Can I see it?” Luke asks him, those blue eyes as direct as his words.

At somewhat of a loss, Din picks the saber up from the table. For not the first time, he considers how the small handle, something so inconspicuous on first glance, can hide not only a lethal weapon but its presence as a symbol. He extends his arm toward Luke, who steps into the room to take it from him.

Luke draws the blade, and the kid makes a quick, worried sound from his side. Din reaches over, and Grogu grasps onto the smallest finger in his glove, seeking reassurance. “I’ve never seen anything like it,” Luke says. “The shape of the blade, it certainly looks Mandalorian.”

“I don't want it. I know it’ll cause me problems,” Din says, recalling the flat line of Bo-Katan’s mouth when she rejected it - and Gideon’s taunt in the background - as Luke flips the pommel in his hand, examining it. “No blade is worth that.”

The Jedi hums, maybe to acknowledge him. “If you would like,” Luke says suddenly. “I can teach you to wield it. Whether or not you wanted it, it’s in your possession now.” He makes the blade disappear, and holds it back out to him.  
  


Din weighs this. He’s no foundling to be taught, and however intriguing the idea of dueling a Jedi might be, it also suggests that he’ll be here long enough to actually learn how to yield the blade.But Din finds himself saying, “I’ll consider it,” though intending the opposite, as he accepts it back. The Jedi’s fingers brush against his.

“As you wish,” Luke says in that way of his that Din finds infuriatingly opaque regarding his true feelings on the matter. “I’ll leave you to it, then.”

\---

After Luke leaves, Din lets Grogu inspect what must be every square inch of the room, watching him with no small amount of amusement as he runs his hands over the walls, the insides of the drawers, and the small closet with awe. The kid’s tired from the hike this morning, though, and Din can sympathize as he lets out a tiny yawn. 

Din settles him into the small cot, adjusting his robes around him. Before the kid settles in, he reaches out in a silent request for what Din realizes is the remnants of the cloak that Luke hadn’t picked up, still in a pile on the desk. Din acquiesces, grabbing it and tucking the dark fabric around him on the cot. Grogu’s ears droop, and he’s fast asleep before long.

Din watches his slumber, a luxury that he would have thought impossible a day ago. He can feel that knot in his chest loosen at the sight, as Grogu buries his face in the bedding, looking content and safe. 

Eventually, he gets up. Without anything better to do, and feeling a little restless, Din goes to explore the temple.

He’s never had the chance to be the adventurous sort - why look for trouble when you will undoubtedly come across it on your own, without any additional effort on your part - but this place seems to draw it out of him anyway. Maybe it’s because he still knows so little about the Jedi ways, their culture. The more he asks, it seems, the more questions he ends up with, and so Din has the idea that maybe this space will finally provide him with - well, something. 

His exploration takes him down a winding corridor with more sleeping rooms, then up to the third level of the temple, which appears to be meeting rooms and the technological center. The walls up here are reinforced with ferrocrete, looking like they’re built to withstand a bomb at any rate. There are dusty monitors and all sorts of empty charging ports in one larger room, as Din peers in, with empty shelves and chairs all around the next room. All Alliance technology, nothing that seems distinctly unknown - or possible Jedi - to him.

Down a level, he finds storage with more rations - and to his gratitude, other cooking supplies and medical kits. The lower level leads to the hangar, which he opts to give a cursory glance, given it's empty of any ships or other weapons. The engravings on the wall continue down here, though, but not in any language he can recognize.

His feet take him up to the very top of the temple last. It’s open to the elements up here, the stone coming together to form an observation deck of sorts. The jungle vegetation that had plagued the lowest level hasn’t made it up this high yet, and Din runs his hand over the carved stone, dry from the wind that glides through the balcony. It’s gorgeous like the rest of the temple, he admits, but it seems his search for answers remains fruitless.

He hears someone clearing their throat, then - “So you’ve found my hiding place.”

Din pulls his hand away from the wall like he’s been caught. The Jedi is leaning on his elbows against one of the support pillars that run up through the temple, looking right at him.

He’s watching Din with no hint of shame nor tension, his posture relaxed. He has on another one of those long, dark cloaks, but the hood is off now, the fabric bunching around his shoulders. He must have bathed before changing, with his hair darker than before and still visibly damp at his temples.

Din starts, “I can leave - “

“No, stay,” the Jedi insists. “If I’m going to introduce children to this place, I should know that they’re bound to discover me up here too.”

“I hardly think I’m a child,” Din says flatly, and Luke gives a laugh, the corners of his eyes crinkling.

“No, you aren’t.”

“You said it wasn’t only going to be foundlings here,” Din points out. “Or are you planning on hiding just from them?”

“Hiding, no,” Luke says, his voice smooth as it carries over the roof. “But adults do tend to be less curious. I’m glad Grogu is sleeping well here.”

Din doesn’t bother asking if he can sense that. “He has that cloak of yours,” he says unnecessarily. “Although you seem to have… replaced it.”

“He can keep it,” Luke says easily, and he rotates around so he can face out towards the horizon, elbows against the stone, his back to Din.Din approaches slowly, before doing the same.

Next to him, Luke continues, “I like it out here. All this water everywhere, how green it is this time of year - it’s beautiful.”

“You said you’re from Tatooine, right?” Din asks, and Luke dips his head in assent. It’s odd thinking that a Jedi hails from such a place, given the other inhabitants he’s associated with the planet. Luke’s not what he expected at all in many ways. It seems that he has as many questions about the man as he does his order and this temple, Din thinks. From this close, he can see when a single drop of water slides down from his hairline, tracing down his cheek and moving to the edge of his earlobe, dangling there for a long moment until it splashes down onto the stone below. 

Realizing his scrutiny, Din forces himself to look out over the forest. It’s near-identical to the view outside of the windows downstairs, but with the empty sky stretching out over their heads, it seems even more endless. If he weren’t wearing beskar, he thinks he would feel that breeze all the way through his body.

“You had a lot on your mind, earlier,” Luke says mildly, making him start. “I want to respect your privacy, but there are some things I can’t tune out even if I tried.”

Din frowns. “You can read my mind?”

“Not truly,” Luke says, which is far from comforting. “The Force is about - “

“Sensing, yeah, you’ve said,” Din interrupts, impatient. “What does that even mean?”

“Have you ever been in a desert right before a sandstorm?” Luke asks him, sounding patient. He’s probably an excellent teacher, though Din might sooner become a Jedi himself before he gets an answer this way.   
  
  
“Sure,” Din says.  
  
  
“If you grew up in a desert, you learn to recognize the signs before one strikes,” Luke continues. “Long before you see the dust on the horizon, it’s like… a sensation deep in your bones. You taste the earth in the air, or you feel something that’s picking up energy and whirling in your direction before you have any actual, rational evidence about it. Does that make any sense to you?”

It doesn’t, but Din isn’t about to admit to it. Luke says, “It probably doesn’t, I know. But the Force - it’s what gives Grogu his powers. He can taste the earth in the air. I know how you’re feeling, but I can’t read your thoughts.”

“I don’t even know if he understands me,” Din admits. “I can’t understand him.“ _But you can talk to him_ , he wants to add but isn’t sure how to say it without sounding ugly with jealousy. Maybe it is - maybe it would be easier if he was only jealous, if he wasn’t relieved that Grogu had someone like the Jedi that could reach that part of him.

“He understands that you love him,” Luke says simply, and it’s like a hit right in his sternum, pulsing through him, and he pushes up off the stone. “He didn’t want to leave you.”

_I’ll have to leave him_ , _then_. Din hates how quiet his voice gets when he says, “Will he hate me when I leave?”  
  
  
“You don’t have to.” For the first time, the Jedi sounds something other than serene - he finally sounds frustrated, as Din faces him fully, sees the corners of Luke’s mouth is turned as he answers him. “I don’t understand why you would put yourself through that pain, let alone him when you can just - “

“He’s part of my clan,” Din says, harshly before he can think better of it. “I’m not going to put my own feelings before his wellbeing.” That knot from before works its way up to his chest, coming up hot and tightening his throat behind the words that spill out. “He might be your student, Jedi, but he’s my _son_. You’ll never understand what I’d be willing to do for him.”

He's half-expecting Luke to bow out again, diffuse the way he throws the words in his face. So it's somewhat of a surprise when Luke’s eyes flash, and he takes a fast step closer to him. Din doesn’t flinch, keeps himself taut. “You were in agony back on the ship, when you thought you wouldn’t see him again,” he throws back, and Din bites his tongue, hard. “It didn’t take a Jedi to see that then, before I knew you - “

“You don’t know me - “

“And I’m telling you, _you don’t have to go.”_ The last words, he emphasizes, glaring at Din like he’s the one speaking nonsense. “He needs you - “  
  
  
“You said it yourself, you Jedi forsake attachments,” Din snaps, aware that his voice is getting louder and less controlled, “You said that committing to the order meant giving up those emotions - “

“That’s not what I said!” Luke interrupts, and Din is torn between shouting and begging for him to _leave it be, let me leave -_ “The Jedis - my masters, they were wrong. Emotion is powerful, especially for Grogu and people like me - but the answer isn’t to try to forget that you can love. To ask Grogu to leave that behind - “

  
“I’m not going to put him at risk, not when he needs to control - “  
  
  
“Enough.” There’s steel in the Jedi’s voice, harder than anything that Din has heard from him before. He thinks of the deadly flashes of green light. They’re both breathing heavily, and Din can see a muscle jump in his jaw as he stares him down, helmet be damned.

Inexplicably, Luke says, “You don’t know who I am, do you? Who my father was?”

He hadn’t noticed his hands going into fists until they start to unclench, back to feeling thrown out of orbit by the change. “What does that have to do with anything?”  
  
  
“My father was a Jedi Knight,” Luke tells him, then bluntly, “He was taught that to be a Jedi, he needed to be free of attachment. But he let his emotions overcome him -all his fear, his grief. During the war, he killed the other Jedi. He killed children, and he did it all because he was scared, I think.”

The wind whistles through the gaps in the stone. Din can’t find the right words to respond. Luke says, “I wish I could just say that he was a bad man, that he did these horrible, cruel things because of it. But I know that he felt deeply, and sometimes - I wonder if he had been allowed to feel the good as well as the bad, he wouldn’t have gone down that path.”

“I’m sorry,” Din says at last, because he doesn’t know what else to say. The tension has dissipated from the air, and Luke looks - not tired, not beaten down as Din feels, but _earnest_ in a way that he’s not sure he’s ever seen someone before, like he's glowing with conviction. 

“I’m trying to build the Jedi Order again, and I want to learn from the mistakes of my masters,” Luke tells him, and Din realizes he’s not just trying to convince him, but he sounds like he _believes_ it himself fully. “The answer is not to give all of that up. It’s to learn control, to learn how to balance your emotions, and I want to teach that. It’s all too easy to give in to anger, and it’s impossible to fight it alone.”  
  
  
“I was alone before I had him,” Din says, and the words come out hoarse with honesty, choking on it. “I don’t want that for him.”

It’s too much and too little to say in response, he thinks; but Luke’s eyes soften, and he reaches out, puts his hand on Din’s forearm, just below the crook of his elbow. Even through layers of cloth and beskar, Din imagines he can feel his touch like he can feel the steady thrum of life coursing through his veins. “I believe you,” he says, simply. “I won’t make you stay. But even if you leave tomorrow, I need you to know that I’m teaching Grogu how to remain in control of his powers and to feel with them. I won't fail him, nor anyone else." 

Din nods once, quick, and Luke lets go of his arm. “Din,” he says, like a farewell, and Din watches him walk away.

He stays out on the observation deck for a long time. He's still there when the sun falls below the trees, the fog disappearing as night falls, before he makes a decision.

\---

Grogu barely stirs when Din lets himself into their room. He does, however, pick up his head from the confines of his bedding when Din picks up his spear and the saber from the table.

Din swears in his head because he’d hoped not to wake him up.

“Shh,” Din says out loud, quietly, and he crosses the room, puts the weapons into the closet. It’ll do for now, but he may need to consider some child-proofing measures for Force-sensitive younglings eventually.

He finds himself sliding down to the ground next to the cot, letting out a deep exhale of his own. Grogu’s eyes, bright in the dark, follow his movements.

“We’ll need to get you another cot,” Din tells him, and Grogu tilts his head. “My back will give out sooner rather than later. But I don’t feel like dragging one in here right now, and I’ll be fine for just this one night.”

A beam comes across the kid's face, at that, and Din thinks that maybe he understands him enough. 

——


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On reflex, he reaches up to the back of his helmet. His fingers still on the lock when he realizes what he’s doing.  
>    
> It’s one thing to do it in dim firelight, and another to do it so casually out in the open. Objectively, he knows that Luke has seen his entire face and that Din’s lifted it up before to eat in front of Grogu on the ship. But here and now, it feels significant that he finds so little difficulty in unmasking himself, even slightly, now. It makes him realize how much things have shifted in so short a period of time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> first of all, thank you all for your kind comments! here's the start to some (gasp) plot, definitely some unregistered Feelings ™, and approximately three lines that make me go "OH that's foreshadowing. ONLY TO ME AT THIS POINT THOUGH" 
> 
> as usual, hmu on tumblr/twitter @villanellve! :)

\---

When he goes down to the mess hall with Grogu the next morning, Luke is there waiting for them. He’s sitting at one of the long metal tables, with three plates in front of him - bread and dried fruit, looking somewhat questionable in origin albeit most likely edible.

Din helps Grogu up onto one of the benches, and the kid digs into the food readily. It seems like it’s much tastier to him than those ration packs, as Din debates on what exactly to say.

“I made caf,” Luke offers to Din, “If you’d like.” He makes no mention of yesterday’s conversation, nor does he look particularly thrown to see Din still here. Maybe Din’s an open book to him after all - though he’s still not entirely convinced that he isn’t a mind reader, after all.

“Thanks,” Din says, accepting a steaming cup and sitting down next to the kid, who’s happily munching away at his plate.

On reflex, he reaches up to the back of his helmet. His fingers still on the lock when he realizes what he’s doing.

It’s one thing to do it in dim firelight, and another to do it so _casually_ out in the open. Objectively, he knows that Luke has seen his entire face and that Din’s lifted it up before to eat in front of Grogu on the ship. But here and now, it feels significant that he finds so little difficulty in unmasking himself, even slightly, now. It makes him realize how much things have shifted in so short a period of time.

Determined not to think about that too much, though, Din lifts the helmet just enough to expose his mouth. He can see Luke avert his eyes, though, like he’s recognized the sound, and he looks intent on stirring another cup of caf in front of him. A piece of his hair slips out over his forehead, curling slightly toward his temple.

Din takes a sip of the caf. It’s absolutely awful - gritty, and bitter like it’s been sitting out for days, but he focuses on drinking it rather than _talking,_ at this point. He’s had enough of that for at least the next decade.

“Sugar?” Luke asks, sounding nonchalant over the fact that he may be trying to poison Din.

“Please,” Din rasps, and he catches the small pot that floats over in his direction. It helps the taste, but not the consistency.

From the other side of the table, seeming to be unaware of the situation, Luke says, “I’ll take Grogu outside today while the weather’s still clear. There’s a clearing not far from here that will work well for today’s lesson.”

Din makes an affirming sound. To clear the taste from his mouth, he tries some of the bread, which is dry but thankfully bland.

Next to him, Grogu loses his grip on a berry. It’s a testament to his reflexes that Luke manages to catch the rolling piece on his side of the table and return it to Grogu’s plate without looking up.

“We can leave after we eat,” Luke continues, “If that works for you?”

Din swallows with some difficulty, says, “You want me to go?”

“Unless you want to stay and take stock of the commissary,” Luke says dryly, but there’s a seriousness about him as he says it. Perhaps it’s to confirm Din’s intentions here, after all. His hands go still onhis cup.

Din can’t say he didn’t reconsider, last night. That even if Grogu was happy that he was staying, he’s not yet convinced that he fully believes the Jedi. The advice of those who came before you, their teachings, it’s not something to throw away so easily. The Jedi might be fine with going against his masters, but it’s a harder concept for him to stomach.

But maybe that’s something that he’s learned, recently, that the past doesn’t always decide the future. That there are more important things in the present to make your stand on, to decide, and act on. Din thinks of himself taking the helmet off back on the cruiser, the soft touch of Grogu’s hand on his jaw. It had been worth it, then - the world had faded away, insignificant beyond that moment, decades of teaching paling to that singular importance.

Still, he makes himself ask out loud, “I won’t be a distraction?” It’s like pressing on a bruise, to say it, even if he was sure about his decision to stay, but he needs to be sure.

Luke says, simply, “If anything, you might help motivate him to concentrate. You’ve been his teacher for a while now,” like the words don’t gut Din to hear.

“Okay,” Din says, letting a long breath out. “I’ll come.”

“Good,” Luke echoes, and there’s a smile teasing the corners of his mouth, even as his face stays tilted down from him. Din catches the next piece of food that comes flying off Grogu’s plate - possibly Force-related, this time, given its unusual velocity, and hands it back to him.

Grogu offers it to him directly, and Din takes it. Popping it into his mouth, he pulls his helmet down once again.

At the sound of the lock engaging, Luke finally looks up. He meets his eyes - and he has the unnerving ability to look right at him through the visor -and Din watches the smile grow across his face into a full, genuine expression.

Din is still chasing away bits of caf grit from between his teeth by the time they leave the temple. He can see Grogu offer Luke bits of bread from the hunk he’d carried out with him, and he thinks it’s still one of the better breakfasts he’s had in a while.

\---

The clearing is not far from the temple, a short cut through low shrubs and vines that hide a once-well cut path through the forest. Once they arrive, Luke moves his hand, and a large rock pries itself free from the ground, floating in the air before coming to a stop in front of them.

Luke sets down the kid down on top of it. He says, out loud for Din’s benefit, “I want to teach him to center himself. Meditation is how we ground ourselves, understand how we fit into the universe.”

“Meditation?” Din asks. Grogu tilts his head, looking between the two of them.

“Well,” Luke says, mouth quirked, “It’s a little more involved than what you might be thinking. Grogu will learn how to balance his emotions in order to understand how he’s motivated by them.”

Din shakes his head, aware of when his questions will just lead to more confusion on his end at this point. “I’ll keep an eye out here,” he says.

Luke sits on the ground next to Grogu, and they look at each other for a few, long minutes, before both of their eyes slip closed.

Din starts to pace the perimeter. This, he can do. At least the weather is nice.

\---

For better or worse, the forest is quiet today. The sun grows more and more intense by midday, and Din can feel the humidity against his skin where his sleeves ride up, just above his gloves where a sliver of skin is exposed.

Grogu and Luke stay in position the entire time. He gives up pacing, eventually, in favor of leaning against a tree on the edge of the clearing, observing them.

Their breathing had evened out at one point, falling in sync with each other. While Grogu’s eyes twitch behind his eyelids occasionally, the Jedi is stock-still like a statue, his back a rigid, straight line, uninterrupted even when Din accidentally steps on a twig.

Eventually, Luke rises. Din snaps to attention at the flutter of black fabric, as he brushes himself off.

“You’re learning well,” Luke says, to Grogu, who opens his eyes at the words. The Jedi turns his head, finding Din at the treeline. “Din?”

  
  
“No vornskr to report,” Din tells him.

“Excellent,” Luke says, rather serenely, then: “Lunch?”

\---

Din’s not embarrassed to admit he has no knowledge of how the Jedi teach their students. With his recently gained knowledge on the topic, he would have guessed they would be like some sort of monk order - what with the secrecy and dark robes, that they were strict, disciplined, and dedicated to their craft.

The dedication, he can see, given that Luke is undoubtedly committed to teaching Grogu. For the rest - well.

The universe continues to throw chaos at his expectations. He should just go into things blindly from here on, just to save himself the shock.

“We should be working on mental defense today,” he hears Luke say very seriously to Grogu the next day, where they’re walking down the hall from their quarters. Din is trailing behind them, just close enough to overhear.

“Although,” Luke continues, “The trees are still fruiting this time of year, and they really do taste the best fresh off the branches. You haven’t had koyo, have you?”

Din considers his own education, which consisted of countless early morning barracks inspections, constant combat lessons, and grueling language tutorials. While that wouldn’t be what he would ever want for Grogu, he thinks that he never really prepared for this… alternative to teaching.

Grogu chirps in response, and there’s a beat of silence.

“You’re right. Din,” Luke calls, evidently having sensed him from around the corner, “Grogu brings up the valid point that we may require you to help us reach the taller branches. You may be compensated for your time in fruit.”

Din rounds the corner from them. “Can’t you just use - the Force on them?” he asks.

Luke just gives him a brilliant smile. “Now that’s a concept,” he says, and Din realizes he’s been used. “Grogu, don’t you think that’s a good idea?”

Grogu flexes his tiny hands, looking up at Luke as they communicate.

“Although I think we can do better than that, can’t we?” Luke continues out loud, and there’s a gleam in his eye that he does not like one bit.

That’s how Din spends an afternoon having several minor heart attacks watching Luke and Grogu float very sharp knives in the air high above their heads, under the guise of practicing precision while controlling said knives.

The koyo that they cut down is delicious, admittedly. Din carries a basket full of them back to the temple by the end of the day. He resolutely doesn’t think about how one of the most feared bounty hunters in the world now has to spend his time stopping a child from floating pieces of fruit down to his waiting hands, as he scolds, “If you eat another one, you’re going to have the worst stomach ache - “ and he doesn’t have to see the Jedi’s face to know he’s smirking at him.

The days fall into a routine. After breakfast (which Din takes over, silently preventing any further incidents involving caf, because it seems that Jedis don’t teach cooking skills) Luke takes Grogu for one of their lessons. The lessons can be anything from more meditation to learning how to control the Force with more physical lessons on balance and reflexes.

Din spends the time watching them, only somewhat willingly becoming an assistant to the lessons when Luke decides that he could use him - which is quite often because he finds out how Grogu is much more motivated when Din is involved. The Jedi seems to have no qualms in roping him in, after all.

One misty morning, Din finds himself being levitated several feet in the air, Luke encouraging Grogu to feel out with the Force to rotate him. When Din inevitably lands with a huff on his back, he can see two amused expressions blinking down at him, before Luke suggests, “A little more concentration is needed, I believe.”

\---

Because of the lessons, Grogu tires out faster than either of them. He falls asleep by the early evening, and after Din puts him to bed, it’s just him and the Jedi.

Without the kid to look after, Din busies himself with repair tasks around the temple - menial labor, something that the Jedi could probably do in half the time with his Force powers, but it gives his hands something to do. He fixes the front doors that loudly creak when they’re opened, the railing on the metal staircase leading up to the quarters.

The first two days, Luke disappears at night. It’s when Din is organizing the canteen on the third day - there are a _lot_ of supplies in there, with what Luke has presumably sourced from the other villages on the moon, or brought with him because there are surprisingly few rebellion-era ration bars in the collection - that the Jedi finds him.

Din just barely manages to not jump out of his skin when Luke appears at his elbow out of nowhere. He joins him in separating out canned foods by type, taking over without any direction - and perhaps sensing Din’s trepidation on having another emotional conversation, he doesn’t say much at first.

They eventually talk about Grogu, mostly - sometimes the weather, or any other neutral topic.While they’re taking apart a crate of blasters one night, Luke asks him a question about his helmet. Din finds himself explaining to him some of the features in the visor, how he uses the heat sensors and other controls.

He’s usually reluctant when speaking to outsiders about the specifics of his armor - but Luke never pries, never reacts with judgment when Din stumbles explaining things that no one’s asked him before, because people don’t tend to be curious over the meaning of different colors of Mandalorian armor once he mentions it off-hand.

In turn, Din asks Luke more about the Jedi order. The picture that Luke paints for him is impressive - they’re not just monks, after all, but an entire culture not unlike the Mandalorians in their dedication to service, their inclusion of anyone willing to dedicate their lives regardless of species, and their motivation by justice.

That, and there are only so many Jedi and Mandalorians left in the universe.

Passing him a screw, Luke says, “I wonder, sometimes, about a world in where our people might have held onto those similarities in the past, more than focusing on our differences.”

“Maybe there would be more of both of us,” Din says. “Less outright war, and a lot more arguing over very insignificant details like right way to _feel_ things,” and Luke huffs out a laugh, picking up another blaster to work on.

Din would have never expected to be having these conversations with a Jedi, talking over a table and existing in something as close to as peace as he’s felt in years.

“I read more on your dark saber, you know,” Luke says a few minutes later, and Din stops from where he’s polishing a barrel. “That it makes you - somewhat significant.”

“Thanks,” Din says dryly.

“I didn’t mean that you’re _insignificant,”_ Luke corrects, and he sets down his blaster as well. “Your Creed believes it makes you the ruler, the Mand’alor.”

  
  
The word sounds funny from his mouth, the vowels unpracticed. Din continues to polish, slower. “You have access to that kind of information?”

  
  
“I can get into the Alliance archives from here,” Luke says, then hesitates. “I can let you read more from our records, if you’d like.”

Din doesn’t particularly want to know more about the dark saber at all - there’s a freedom in ignorance, especially in things regarding rightful leaders of dead home planets. But there may be value in seeing just how much the Alliance knows about his people. At a minimum, it could save him an eventual embarrassing conversation with Bo-Katan and her people over what exactly the title entails.

He clears his throat, says, “I’d appreciate that.”

“I’ll set it up, for when you’re ready,” Luke says and leaves it at that.

The nights end the same way. They make their way up to the stairs, separating in the hallway to go to their respective rooms.

“Good night,” Luke says to him, and Din nods, closing the door so he can pull off his helmet and take a deep breath of air in.

\---

They’ve been there for more than a week by the time the droid returns.

It’s pouring rain outside. The clouds had gathered in dark angry swirls since yesterday, now releasing a torrent of water outside. Grogu had been given the day off, and while Din polishes his armor, he floats pieces of it in the air, much to his amusement (and Din’s, admittedly, even if it takes twice as long to complete the chore).

Din finds out the droid has returned when he exits his room to use the refresher, only to be stopped by the thing in the middle of the hallway.

The droid, seeing him, starts beeping and flashing rapidly, the top of it spinning to keep its lock on him. Din doesn’t even have a blaster on him, only his flight suit and helmet, to his annoyance when he grasps at his thigh on instinct and comes up empty.

“Shut up,” Din tells him, a headache forming, “I don’t know where - “

“Artoo!” Luke calls out before Din can try to move past him. He exits the refresher that Din had intended to get to before being harassed by a robot, looking entirely too cheerful to see the droid that’s menacing him in the hallway. “You took your time coming back, didn’t you?”

The droid starts chirping away at the Jedi, instead.

Din forces his eyes up away from where the loose cloth of Luke’s shirt hangs unfastened over his chest. “What’s he saying?” he says.

“He wishes you’d be less rude,” Luke says, more than a little admonishing, and Din can, ridiculously, feel a flush start to form under his helmet. The droid continues, and Luke frowns, then. “What do you mean?”

Dread builds up inside of him the longer the droid’s reply gets. “Did someone follow us?” Din asks.

  
The droid chitters. With a frown, Luke translates, “He says that no one’s come near the planet. He’s been tracking the atmosphere, and there hasn’t even been a transport going by.”

“That’s a good thing, isn't it?” Din asks. The droid makes a rather rude sound, he thinks.

“Not if someone’s been stopping all travel in this sector,” Luke says. His eyes slip down to Din’s chest. Din is aware of his relative state of undress, though not before something hot spikes through him, inexplicable, at the idea that he’s looking at him, in a way that no one’s been able to look at him in a long time -

He shakes it off, as Luke meets his gaze again, as his line of thought is continued. He says instead, “I need to reach out to someone off-planet.”

Din hadn’t been aware of any communication channels set up in the temple. Pulling himself together, he asks, “Do you have a comm system set up?”

  
  
“I can build what I need with what was left here,” Luke says, and he hesitates before adding, “I’d appreciate your help to finish it.”

  
  
“Of course,” Din says, and he braces himself before his next words, directed at the droid - “Thank you, for monitoring the situation.” He’s unable to hide the stiffness in his voice, but he hopes the sincerity is conveyed enough.

  
  
The droid is dead silent, before giving one chirp. Luke translates, “He appreciates the sentiment,” tapping on the side of it with his knuckles like one would show affection to a dog.

The droid beeps, and Din rolls his eyes.

\---

Dressing fully in his room, he makes sure the kid has the small metal ball and anything else he might want, before heading up to the next level.

He finds the Jedi already hard at work, in the middle of the room and floating bits of metal and his tools within an arm’s length. It’s quite a sight to see. As Din steps into the room, Luke snags a wrench from around his ear.

“Some of the coils are in rough condition,” Luke says, barely glancing over to his entrance. “But I think I should have something soon - ow,” as his finger catches on part of a circuit board.

“Careful,” Din says, as he watches Luke continue to welds two of the parts together. “Are you patching the transceiver like that?”

  
  
“It’s an inelegant solution,” Luke admits, “But time is more precious.” He finishes, looking bemused for a moment, “Can you hand me -"

“Here,” Din says, handing him the next part. “I have to say, you’re better at that than most pilots I’ve known.”

  
  
“I grew up on a moisture farm. Things broke all the time and there aren’t too many mechanics in the desert,” Luke says, distracted. “Is there - “ and Din hands him the metal plate already in his hand. “Thanks. I presume bounty hunters have to fix things too or was it taught to you?”

  
“I had a foster mother who taught me,” Din tells him. “She was a gifted engineer, could fix anything that came over her station.”

He would think of her when patching up holes in the Razor Crest, remember her broad hands over his smaller ones, guiding the welding tools as she spoke in low, rusty Basic over his head. He doesn’t know what happened to her and her wife, hasn’t thought of them in a long time.

Luke spares him a curious look. “You were adopted?”

  
  
“I was a foundling,” Din answers. The words bring with them more unwanted memories, of the screech of metal, the explosion from the outside of the hatch, the protective hand around the back of his head, keeping him from seeing the destruction - before he collects himself. “They cared for me when I was too young to join the Fighting Corps.”

“I have just the one sister,” Luke offers in turn. “With her husband and their son, they’re all I have left from my family.”

“Does she live on Tatooine?”

“She’s who I’m trying to reach out to,” Luke answers instead. “Hold on - almost there - “  
  
  


Din frowns. “You’re asking her if she’ll know if there’s some kind of blockade?”  
  


  
“She certainly knows a lot,” Luke says vaguely, and then, “There. That should do it.” He holds out the device - by no means sleek or a handsome piece of equipment, but the screen lights up all the same, ready to record amongst a mess of wires - clearly, the Jedi’s practiced with his hands.

Din looks appraisingly over it, more than a little impressed that he was able to patch something together out of the scraps left behind. “Maybe you can teach me a thing or two after all,” he says, adjusting one of the wires lest it shock him mid-hologram conversation.

“You know my offer stands,” Luke says, then for some reason, adds quickly, “For sparring, with or without the saber.”

“Maybe,” Din allows, and he looks at the device. “Are you going to try now?”  
  
  
“Best get it over with,” Luke says bracingly, and he hits a button on it.

They both hold their breath. The screen flashes, then blue light emits from it, highlighting the Jedi’s features in the bright blue light.

“All right,” Luke mutters to himself, typing away, as the device burrs in his hands, “Come on, Leia, pick up, pick up - “

The machine makes a shrill beep, and Din sees a projection of a man’s face appear - static-y, but complete, as he takes a step back. “Luke?” the man says, squinting, “Is that you?”

  
“Han!” Luke exclaims, fumbling with the device on the table now, “Hold on - can you hear me?”  
  
  
  
The man laughs, loud even through the poor connection. “What are you calling me on, a kriffing clam? Quality’s shit, but listen, you’ve got to check in more - your sister’s going to have my head when she finds out you called - “  
  
  
  
“Han, listen,” Luke interjects, “I’m back at Yavin, but I need to know if anyone else knows we’re here.”  
  
  
  
“Who’s we?” Han demands, “You elope or something?”

  
Luke lets out what Din would best describe as a nervous laugh. “Come on, no ships are coming in and I don’t know why. Can you get Leia?”  
  


“I’ll do you one better,” Han says, “I’ll grab Chewie and we’ll come on out there - “  
  
  
He’s shoved out of the frame, and a woman’s head appears. “Luke,” she says, “We’ve been _worried,_ it’s been weeks _!_ “

  
Din puts a sudden name to the voice. Even he recognizes this woman as Leia _Organa_ , the princess, the leader of the New Republic, the woman whose face is on every poster that seeks out fresh recruits. Which makes Luke -  
  
  
“I’m sorry I’ve been busy,” Luke says. He looks a decade younger, his face softening as he speaks to her, as Din processes this new information. “But I need your help.”

He recounts the vornskr, and their discovery regarding the lack of ships. Din notices he tactfully skips over him being poisoned by the beast, as well as the details with Grogu and himself.

Organa doesn’t say a word the entire time until he finishes. Looking contemplative, she asks, “Have you sensed anything?”  
  
  
“Nothing,” Luke says, letting out a frustrated exhale, “If I had - I’d almost prefer it. But I’ve been careful not to reach out so I don't give away our position.”

Organa lets out a hum. “You think someone would know that it would be you?”

“I think it would take just one Force-sensitive person to put two and two together,” Luke says. “The temple’s not fortified yet, and no one in the colony can explain it either.”

“Han is two seconds away from flying to your location,” Organa says, wryly, “And if he predictably doesn’t listen to me, he’ll come out there to help. I can send others - “

Luke cuts her off, though, says, “No. If there is some kind of blockade, I don’t want anyone put in harm’s way trying to get here.”

“There haven’t been any restrictions from the Alliance side of things,” Organa says, thoughtfully. There’s a quality to her that Luke shares - something in the tilt of her head, maybe, as she continues, “The colony’s not large anymore, so maybe the trade has dwindled?”

“It doesn’t explain the vornskr,” Luke says. “Something strange is happening here. I just can’t put my finger on it.”

“Come to Coruscant,” Organa suggests, “If you come back, we can figure it out - “  
  
  
“I can’t,” Luke says, then after a half-glance to Din, “I’ve found the Child, Leia.”

“What?”

  
  
  
“I’m training him,” Luke says, resolutely, “And soon there will be others.”  
  
  
  
There’s a long pause, as Organa seems to be searching for a response. She settles on, “ _Luke,”_ sounding every bit the beleaguered sister.

“You know I can protect them here from anyone else,” Luke insists, “But I need to know what I’m up against.”

“If you’re so worried about it,” Organa says pointedly, “You should bring the Child here, or to any other planet that doesn’t have Force-feeding creatures running around at the very least.”

“I can’t do that,” Luke repeats. “There were Imperials after him, Leia, and who knows whoever else for his bounty. There’s nowhere else in the galaxy where he’ll be safe for now, and here, at least I know the terrain.”

Organa sighs. “Just promise me that you know what you’re doing,” she says. She reaches out on the hologram like she can touch him.

  
  
“Now then,” Luke says, mirroring her gesture, “You know I can’t lie to you.”

\---

Din steps away for the rest of their conversation for privacy, looking like he’s inspecting some of the other terminals in the room. 

He waits until he hears Luke say, “May the force be with you,” and the ending beep of their conversation, before approaching once again.

As Luke sets down the comm, Din decides to get it over with. He says, “You’re Leia Organa’s brother.”

For whatever reason, that makes a look of surprise flash over the Jedi’s face. “Oh,” Luke says, rising. “Yes, I am.”

“Are you really royalty?” Din asks, and that makes a sudden laugh erupt out of him. “What?”

  
  
“No, nothing,” and Luke looks entirely too amused, making Din think he’s missed something, “I guess I’m used to people knowing me for other reasons.”

“As a war hero pilot?” Din asks, crossing his arms in front of him. Luke’s entire face twitches, so he’s guessing that’s closer to it. “It does make sense that the rebels would want a Jedi on their side.”

“I became a Jedi after I was a pilot,” Luke says, pushing back from the table. “It was a… complicated time.”

Din wonders what could make him evasive about it still. This new information only further complicates his understanding of the man, as he says, “You Jedi seem to find many complications for yourselves.”

“You don’t even know,” Luke says on an exhale, running a hand through his hair. He looks restless, his eyes darting back and forth as he sits there.

  
Din feels unsure, suddenly, on whether he should leave him alone or inquire. He settles on saying, “Do you want to - talk about it?”

Luke gives him a half-smile, the lines not disappearing from his brow. “I had hoped to get more of an answer from her, I suppose.”

Frustration is ebbing off of him, that much is clear. Without thinking fully through it, Din offers, “Can I take you up on your offer?” 

  
Luke blinks, then says, wryly, “I’m afraid I won’t be a particularly patient teacher today.”

  
  
“Luckily,” Din points out, “I should be much closer to your peer than your student in sparring.” He’s going to give himself the benefit of the doubt, for the purpose of seeing that line disappear from the Jedi’s forehead.

Din thinks that he may have succeeded in rendering him speechless. His mouth works, before he says, “I'll meet you in the entrance hall.”

\---

The rain patters faintly in the distance, and without lights on, the hall seems eerily large, just as cavernous as it had been on that first day.Din had brought both the spear and the dark saber, and after a moment, he takes the spear up. 

If Luke had any preference on what he uses, he doesn't mention it. Instead, he says, “Best of three?”

“Agreed,” Din says, and he readies his stance.

Luke moves carefully. There’s none of the brazen, nearly arrogance that he had cut down the squadron of dark troopers with. He follows Din’s every motion with his eyes, drawn lightsaber at his side, waiting. He realizes that while he’s seen the Jedi in action, Luke hasn’t seen the same from him.

Din attacks first - and there’s a clang of the beskar, the length of the spear heating up against the glowing blade. Luke parries, slicing upwards so he’s forced to roll to the side, his footwork saving him from losing on the first encounter so soon. They exchange several flat hits, both the spear and the green saber whirling in the air, parrying and reaching out in sync.

They square off again, and now Luke strikes. He cuts in a large diagonal line, the force of which makes Din balance on his back foot, using the spear to push him to the side. He brings the tip towards him, intending to strike the handle of his blade - only the lightsaber cuts close, and Dins finds the green light an inch from his throat before he can move.

“That’s one to me,” Luke says mildly, taking his sword away. He resets his position, and Din follows suit.

His blood’s thrumming in a way that it only gets with a good fight like this - with no risk, but all the enjoyment of facing off against someone as good at the Jedi. He hadn’t realized he’s been missing this, fighting for the fun and not to survive.

Din attacks again, but this time, Luke dodges the strike entirely. In a masterful show of balance, he whirls around, and Din just barely keeps up with the blows as they come, testing his own balance and reflexes, every inch of him singing as he keeps up.

He just barely manages to graze the Jedi’s chest with the spear, and when he deflects, Din thrusts it forward, stopping just short of stabbing through his shoulder. “That’s one to me,” he echoes, taking back the spear.

Luke doesn’t seem bothered, though, his face lighting up. “Good,” he says, and although he says similar things to Grogu all the time, it makes Din feel an entirely different way to hear the praise directed at him.

Resetting, Din steadies his grip on the spear. They end up facing each other, blades still up.

Circling him, Luke says, “I thought you’d be slower in your armor,” and he sounds like he’s _teasing_ him, something that Din hasn’t experienced since he was sixteen and fighting with Paz Vizsla during their free time.

“I thought you’d be faster,” Din throws back, feeling light as a feather all the way throughout his body, as Luke tries to catch him off guard with his next attack. He uses the spear to push him back, sliding before he can counter, “You don’t telegraph with your feet, but I can read your face.”

“I remember your face,” Luke says, and the words send a shiver down Din’s back. He chases it off, the saber sliding off the beskar, “You weren’t as old as I had guessed, you know - I thought, maybe it’ll be a fair fight - “

“Were you expecting me to move like an old man?” It feels nearly sacrilegious to talk about it like this, so casually, and yet the way that Luke’s ears are slightly pink makes him feel warm, chasing away anything else beyond the burn of his muscles, the thud of his heartbeat in his ears.

“I’m not so much younger,” Luke says, twirling the saber in his grasp, then he’s finally slashing out at him.

Din defects the first blow, then comes in close enough that he can grab Luke’s wrist holding the lightsaber. Luke drops his weight automatically, and Din uses his greater height to push back against him until they’re both slamming against the wall.

One of them gasps, and his spear gets tossed aside along with the saber with a clatter - the latter suddenly sheathed, luckily, and Din wonders if Luke had possessed the control to do so, lest one of them leave the spar with a more grievous injury, as he grapples with him.

Luke takes his pause as an opening to twist in his grasp, his hands coming up to shove at Din, until Din’s back is the one hitting the wall, Luke pinning him in place with his weight. Din’s head is forced up by the wall, Luke looking up at him with his forearm pressed against his throat. He can feel the fabric from his sleeve against the sliver of skin bared just under his jaw, the whisper of sensation magnified as he keeps it there. 

Din’s breathing heavily, and he wonders if Luke can hear through his helmet. Looking smug, Luke says, “And I didn’t even have to use the Force.”

“Your win,” Din rasps, and he can feel the press of Luke’s thighs against his, and it’s electrifying, the way that he _feels_ him -

Luke lets him go, and Din remembers where he is - and who he’s fighting. “I'll call it a technical tie,” Luke says, his eyes scrutinizing his helmet as he steps back. He picks up their weapons, holds the spear out to him. “Again?”

Din takes it. "Again," he agrees. 

\---

Grogu’s awake by the time that Din comes back. He’s sweaty and bruised, and Grogu makes a concerned, groggy sound by the way he limps - just a little, from when Luke had managed to throw him into the stone ground with a well-timed flip — over to his bed.

“Luke was helping me train,” Din assures him, tugging off his helmet, “I’m fine - we're fine.”

Grogu closes his eyes again, satisfied with that. Din peels of his gloves to run his fingers down the side of his head. “Sleep well, _ad’ika_ ,” he says to him quietly, and the kid lets out a deep, content sigh.

Sleep comes to him quickly, thanks to the workout. He has a strange dream of being bare - he can feel something like sunshine all over his skin, and Din doesn't hide from it, stretches out in the sensation in the lazy, drawn-out way that time passes in dreams, feels the warmth spread slow and honey-thick all the way down to his bones. 

\---

The next morning, he wakes up to the sound of an explosion.

\---


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “That’s not it,” Din snaps, surprising himself. “My problem is that if you had overexerted yourself healing me, you would have left Grogu by himself - “
> 
> “I wasn’t going to overexert myself, I’m not a - “ 
> 
> “ - and you shouldn’t have, because I’m not the priority - “ 
> 
> “Grogu is always my priority,” Luke says back, a snarl on the edge of his voice, “But so are _you_!” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here we go again! the mood changes in this chapter....... it's got it all (mostly). 
> 
> big shoutout to the wookieepedia for some pre canon universe history. enjoy!

Din’s upright and moving before his brain fully processes what he’s hearing.

Another muffled bang - the sound too close to be coming from outside - and it manages to rattle their room. In his bed, Grogu whimpers. He fastens his pauldron messily in order to quickly scoop him up. Unwilling to put him in harm’s way, but even less willing to leave him alone while he figures out whatever the kriff is going on, Din jams on his helmet, exiting his room with the kid under his arm, his blaster in the other hand, saber still swinging from his belt. 

He doesn’t have to go far. The explosive sounds aren’t from a bomb or a grenade - they sound like claps of thunder, inexplicably. He quickly makes out a flash of blue - _blue?_ \- light, ricocheting down the hallway, coming from one of the rooms. The only other occupied room on the level, in fact.

The door to Luke room’s is swinging wildly on its frame, with no lights on inside save the flashes of electricity coming from inside. _Lightening_. Din hurries down the hall, putting Grogu down on the floor, and he slams the door fully open.

It’s like being caught in the center of a hurricane. Across the room on the bed, Luke is there, his back bowed off the bed, fingers clenched in the sheets, blue electricity ricocheting all over his body. His face is contorted, eyes squeezed shut, and Din shouts, “ _Luke_!”

He has to dodge a bolt of blue lightning that comes in his direction, shielding his face instinctively. “You need to wake up _-_ “ Din gets out before a bolt of lightning travels down the Jedi’s arms, and it hits him right in the chest.

Beskar does better than other metals in terms of the conductivity of electricity; that is, his muscles go rigid, screaming with the strain of being shocked, the blaster falling to the ground, but he’s not immediately knocked unconscious.

Din bites down on his tongue, kept upright by nothing more than his planted feet and the refusal of his muscles to crumple in place, as he hears Luke’s voice over it all - pleading, “Stop, _please_ , stop it, _Father_ \- “

The lightning leaves him just as quickly as it had struck, and he makes a split-second decision.

Din draws the dark saber, and without any finesse, he slices out - striking the two bedposts closest to him, cutting the wood and metal as easily as if they had been paper. The mattress tumbles to the ground with a crash.

Then his legs finally give out, and he collapses to the ground.

He can tell when the lightning ceases, his visor no longer lit up in blue streaks. In the dark, he can only hear gasps coming from the direction of the ruined bed, but no more explosions or flashes of light as far as he can tell.

Then: “Din?” Luke says, sounding bewildered, and Din makes a muffled, pained sound in response.

There are hands gripping on either side of his shoulders, rolling him over, and Din makes out Luke’s worried expression above him before he’s finally passing out.

\---

When he comes to, he’s in a softly lit room, in what he recognizes as the medical bay within the temple. He still has his helmet on, but he can feel bacta covering his bare chest, bandages underneath a blanket. He must be propped up on one of the old medical beds, and the lights seem hazy, high above his head.

Din sees that droid again to his left, projecting his vitals up on a small screen. He can see when his heart rate picks up, and the droid trills as if in alarm.

“Grogu,” Din gets out, and he turns his head just in time to see Luke rise up from his other side.

“He’s right here,” Luke tells him, and he’s holding the kid against his chest. Relief washes through him, and Din shakily exhales through his nose. “He tried to heal you three times before I convinced him that the bacta would do the trick for the rest of it.”

Grogu squeals upon seeing him, reaching out, and Luke balances him on the edge of the bed, thankfully with the foresight not to drop him on his healing chest. “Are you okay?” Din asks, turning his head to look up at Luke.

  
  
“ _Me_?” Luke says, then, “I’m fine - but how are you feeling?”

“Like I’ve been burned,” Din answers honestly. He straightens his legs underneath the blanket, testing to make sure everything’s functioning, before he adds, “And a little like I’ve been trampled by a bantha.”

“You shouldn’t have any lasting damage,” Luke says, and he has dark hollows under his eyes, under this light. “I am so sorry, Din - “

“You don’t need to apologize - “

  
  
“I could have killed you,” Luke says, and there’s a tense note in his tone as he folds his hands in front of him, “I need you to know that - I didn’t know that could happen. I would never put you or Grogu in any harm - “

“Was it some kind of nightmare?” Din asks him, keeping his voice low for Grogu’s sake, who’s curiously dabbing his little fingers into the mess of bacta. He winces. “Ow - careful, kid.“

Grogu lets go of him, with a guilty flattening of his ears. Looking rather similar, Luke answers, “I must have lost control. It’s never happened to me before - I don’t know how it happened.”

“I have to say,” Din says, trying to sit up, “I didn’t know you could do that.”

He has a momentary image of Grogu doing something similar with the blue lightning, maybe the next time Din tries to stop him from eating a frog egg. He hides his cringe at the thought. He’ll just have to hope that Luke teaches him _much_ more of that control by the time the kid hits teenage years if that’s the kind of thing he should expect.

“It’s called Force lightning,” Luke says, and his face flattens to something deceptively even, indifferent, as he says, “I understand if this changes things, and as soon as you heal you wanted to take the ship - “

“Luke,” Din interrupts, and he wishes for a moment he didn’t have his helmet on, so he could catch his eye and know that Luke can see his expression. “It was an accident.”

The mask slips away, just a little, and Luke nods once, still looking painfully stiff. “I’ll let you both rest,” he says, “Artoo will bring you anything you need, he has his medical protocol working.”

Din doesn’t realize he wants him to stay until Luke’s already turned, his back to him as he walks away. He watches the hunched line of his shoulders as he pushes open the bay doors on his way out, sleeves long enough to obscure his hands at either side of him.

Grogu’s fingers are sticky from bacta as he places one on Din’s neck, making a questioning noise. Din sighs. “You can’t get rid of me that easily,” he says, and Grogu pats just underneath his helmet. “All right. You need to sleep too, okay?” 

\---

By the time he wakes up again, he thinks it might be the early afternoon. His visor confirms the time as such, and Din slowly sits up on the bed. Grogu is nowhere to be seen, though the droid is still next to him.

He’s sore all over, and he thinks that he might not follow Luke and Grogu to their training today, but his breathing and heart seem to be fine, with a quick glance at his vitals through the visor. The bandages come off easily, his skin unmarked underneath them, as Din drops them at the foot of his bed in a messy pile.

He swings his legs over the edge of the bed, carefully. The droid beeps at him, seemingly doing another scan over him. Din squints at him, says, “Where is your master?”

Another trill and the droid’s upper part swivels. Din sighs. “One beep for yes, two for no.”

The droid finishes his scan of him, and he beeps once.

“Out with the kid?” Two beeps. “Still here?” One beep.

“Good talk,” Din tells him. The droid says something that he is going to generously assume is agreement.

He gets to his feet - slightly unsteady, but he’s able to walk across the room. His flight suit’s sitting on one of the tables, underneath the medicine cabinets on the wall. It’s now clean, but there are singed holes that he’ll have to repair.

Din finds more spare clothing draped over the back of a chair - a long-sleeve shirt and pants, which he slips on with aching hands. It’s not until they’re on him that he realizes they must be Luke’s clothes - too short, but better than nothing.

“Are you going to stop me?” Din asks the droid, who moves between him and the door while he adjusts his helmet on his head.

The droid trills again, but he doesn’t move to block him from slipping out the door - though really, it’s more of a stagger, especially when he hits the stairs.

\---

Din focuses on his breathing as he walks, taking a break just outside of his quarters. Grogu is taking a nap in his cot inside, and he leaves him alone. He drops off his flight suit, putting on his boots as silently as he can to go back own.

Coming back out, he picks up on a distant buzzing sound, which he follows to the mess hall.

He finds Luke there, sitting at one of the tables, and he’s surrounded by tools. Unaware of his presence, Luke sets down the soldering gun, swiveling to pick up a screwdriver with one hand from whatever he’s working on at the table - holding something down, maybe?

He’s missing his hand, Din realizes. The glove that he usually wears is off, exposing the prosthetic he has instead, as he keeps his arm in front of him. There are wires coming out of where his wrist would be, and the flesh-colored covering is peeled back, exposing the hardware underneath.

He can see when the Jedi’s focus is broken, noticing him. Luke stops fiddling with the prosthetic, and without looking directly at him, he says, “Grogu is upstairs.”

  
“I saw him,” Din says, and he comes up to the table. “Was your hand damaged?”

  
“I’m just making sure nothing got fried,” Luke says, and he adjusts a wire. Din sits down across from him. The Jedi doesn’t look up, even when Din’s breath catches in his chest from swinging his legs over for a moment, his knees creaking in protest.

He watches as Luke bends over his hand. There are a few more sparks, and then he’s picking up his hand, flexing the fingers, testing the mechanisms. “There,” Luke says, sounding satisfied, and he meets Din’s eyes, briefly, over the tips of his fingers.

Din decides how to voice the next question, and he settles on outright - “You were talking about your father last night,” he says, and Luke’s eyes slide down once again, to his hand. He forces his voice to be even, as he asks, “He did that to you? With the - the Force lightning?”

“He cut off my hand,” Luke answers, and Din’s fingers tighten, involuntarily. “The Force lightning was solely Palpatine’s weapon of choice, though.”

“ _Palpatine_?” Din’s familiar with that name. “He attacked you?”

“My father killed him to protect me after that,” Luke says, finally meeting his eyes. Din slides it into the context of his words last night, as the sounds of his pleas still haunt him, “I thought I couldn’t ever do that to someone, that I would never - “

“You didn’t mean to,” Din says flatly. “It’s not at _all_ the same.”

Luke’s jaw jumps, mutinous to the rest of his bizarrely frozen expression. He says, after a pause, “You nearly died - “

“And here I thought I was just fine,” Din cuts back. There’s an avoidance to his answer, that now he realizes he needs to pry further. “You said that Grogu didn’t heal me.”

  
  
“He didn’t,” Luke says, folding the skin cover back on his prosthetic probably to avoid his gaze. Maker, he probably can’t even lie to save himself, Din thinks, sees the faintest lines form at the corners of his mouth.

“I thought you couldn’t do that,” Din says point-blank, and Luke lets go of his prosthetic. “You were so surprised that Grogu healed you. But you did fix me, didn’t you?”

It makes much more sense, the more he thinks about it - he should at least have burns, even with the bacta, taken much more damage from being hit by _Force lightning,_ after all. He can picture it - Luke over him, his eyes slipping closed like Grogu’s had, focusing on knitting skin back together underneath his hands. A shiver ripples through him, probably because of the thin material he’s wearing, he tells himself, not at all at the idea of the Jedi’s palms pressed against his bare skin.

“You were unconscious,” Luke answers, surprisingly sharp. “I wasn’t sure the extent of your injuries. Since I couldn’t tell - I tried what Grogu had done for me. I was just as surprised that I managed to do it - “

Something in him bristles. “You shouldn’t have - “

“- I didn’t touch your helmet if that’s what you’re worried about - “

“That’s not it,” Din snaps, surprising himself. “My _problem_ is that if you had overexerted yourself healing me, you would have left Grogu by himself - “

“I wasn’t going to _overexert myself,_ I’m not a - “

“ - and you shouldn’t have, because I’m not the priority - “

“Grogu is always my priority,” Luke says back, a snarl on the edge of his voice, “But so are _you!_ ”

They glare at each other, and Din is absurdly grateful and furious for the privacy his helmet gives because there’s color high on the Jedi’s cheeks and he’s sure he looks the same. Like the words are being forcibly pulled from him, Luke adds, “Grogu needs you just as much as he needs me. Now, if you’ll excuse me - “

He’s had enough of the Jedi walking away for one day, he realizes, with something else entirely bubbling through him at the thought. It might be rash, but he says, “Wait - Luke, _wait_.”

Luke stops rising from this seat, at least. Din says, “I wanted to ask you something. It’s about the Force.”

He can practically see Luke’s inner struggle for a moment, to leave or to stay and answer. He says, cautiously, “What is it?” looking like he’s ready to flee at a moment’s notice.

“I wanted to know,” Din says, “If you could show me how it works. If I could experience it.”

Luke doesn’t bother to hide the surprise on his face at that, but luckily, he sinks back to his seat, intent on him. Aware of himself, Din continues, “I don’t even know if it’s possible, but could you could show me somehow?”

It’s not something he had intended to ask like this, but he leaves his words out there all the same. Luke studies his helmet like he can see his face right through it, seemingly filling in the meaning behind his words. Din watches as the clench in his jaw fades away, though.

“I could try,” Luke says, at length, “But I don’t know how it will be for you, to experience something like that and be unable to orient yourself naturally.”

“How?” Din asks.

In response, Luke stretches out his hand - the flesh one - across the table. “I could try to project something similar onto you,” he says.“The touch might help to ground you, so you’re not lost in your head.”

Din’s still caught by the sight of his bare hand outstretched, the invitation, as Luke must sense his trepidation, adds, “If you’re not up to it now, of course - “

He’s cut off when Din lifts his own hand, bare of any barrier, and he sets it down on Luke’s. He sees the pale skin of his palms from between his darker knuckles, the slight shift as Luke’s fingers splay out to accommodate the weight of his hand. His hand is cooler than he would have guessed, the faint sensation of callouses dragging against his skin.

The flush is back on Luke’s face when he looks up. He clears his throat, says, “I’m going to try to send you what it’s like. The Force flows around us, and I can try to bring you into the loop.”

“Okay,” Din says. He thinks, _I trust you_ , and wonders if maybe Luke can sense that, the words through the way he keeps his hand steady on his. Even as the Jedi manages to get under his skin, it stays true. 

Luke says, “Close your eyes, and focus on me.”

Din does. There’s the slight flex of Luke’s fingers under him, as he concentrates. Nothing happens, and he wonders maybe it isn’t going to work -

Then he _feels_ it.

The flashes of - _something_ \- jolt through him, like nothing else he’s experienced before. It’s like he’s standing outside of his body, seeing the both of them sitting there, both their eyes closed and touching just in one place - but linked, at the same time, by something much greater than a simple feeling. Everything is tinged with an indescribable sensation like he’s been cast underwater this whole time, and now he’s been pulled up to the surface, feeling the wind all around him -

At the same time, he can feel his hand on Luke’s, and he can feel the weight of his own hand, the table underneath them, the ache in his prosthetic at his side. Din’s caught in a loop of the sensation of that alone. It’s like there’s an entirely new color to see, a tugging sensation behind his eyes that aches the longer he tries to wrap his head around it.

Feeling like he’s fumbling around in the dark, he pushes out, trying to figure out the breadth of whatever it is he’s feeling - and one of their hands tightens around the other because then it’s like he’s in Luke’s head. He catches the edge of something in his mind, and it’s the rush of something heated burning through him, the intensity of which is like a volcano erupting, rumbling through his bones, _wanting_ -

Din gasps out loud, feeling his own mouth open, and Luke rips his hand away instantly, the feelings disappearing along with it.

“I’m fine,” Din rasps out, lest Luke gets that guilt-stricken look on his face again. He’s glad to be seated at that moment, though. “That was - it’s - “

  
  
“Overwhelming,” Luke finishes for him. “You’re recovering. I shouldn’t have done that.”

  
  
“I asked you to do it,” Din points out, then, “You _feel_ that, all the time?”

“It fades into the background, with time,” Luke says, looking like he’s considering the words before he says, “You don’t actively seek it out at every minute. It’s like… sifting your hands through sand, searching for something else. You don’t count every single grain as you feel the sand, but they’re all there if you look closely.”

Before he can think better of it, Din tells him, “No wonder you make terrible caf. It’s amazing you can even fight with all that going on in your head.”

  
He’s rewarded with the sight of a smile on Luke’s face, the lines disappearing as he raises his eyebrows in mock offense. “My caf is fine, thank you very much.”

  
“It’s the worst,” Din informs him, “I’m not sure if anyone’s ever been willing to tell you that, but it is.”

“I’m lucky to have you to keep me humble, then,” Luke says, dry, and it’s like their argument is a lifetime away, instead of minutes. Din can still feel that hot sensation in his chest, a ghost of whatever it was - was it Luke, or him that had felt it?

Folding his hands in front of him, Luke asks, “Are you all right, though?”

  
  
“Have you ever done that for someone?” Din asks, then feels foolish for asking. “You don’t have to answer that.”

But Luke just says, “No one’s asked me what it’s like before.” His eyes are still on Din, and for a moment, Din imagines that he’s someone else entirely. That he doesn’t wear a helmet, that he doesn’t feel like he’s tripping over his words around him all the time - that he knows where he stands, maybe. Where they stand.

But then again, would he have ever met someone like Luke in another life?

\---

Grogu is thrilled to see them both, already awake when both Din and Luke make their way up the stairs. Din brings food as a late lunch, and the three of them sit in the room to eat.

Cross-legged on the ground, Luke and Grogu float bits of a sandwich back and forth instead of talking. Din focuses on devouring his own sandwich, feeling suddenly ravenous. Being struck with lightning of any kind will do that to you, as he polishes off the food.

Catching a piece of bread aimed at him, Luke speaks, “I was thinking about going out tomorrow. There’s a place on this planet that’s Force-sensitive than most, and that will help me reach out to see if I can figure out what’s blocking us off here.”

Din thinks of that rounded rock he had placed Grogu on before the dark troopers had come and taken him. “Won’t that be dangerous?”

  
  
“I can take on something like a vornskr myself, believe it or not - “

“I meant to reach out with the Force, if you think someone is looking for us,” Din says, then decidedly, “I’ll go with you.”

He expects Luke to argue, only he nods. “If you’re feeling up to it,” he says. “I think Grogu should stay. Artoo can watch over him, let me know if anything comes up over the comm.”

Grogu perks up at his name. Din elects to ignore the fact he’s trusting a droid to take care of the kid, and he says, “Where is this place?”

  
  
“It’s high up in the mountains, just east of here,” Luke says. “It’ll take most of a day to get there, and we can make camp for one night.”

  
  
His legs already burn at the thought of hiking up the slippery rock. Keeping his sigh internal, and also feeling an acute sense of loss for his jetpack, Din says, “When do we go?”

“We leave at dawn,” Luke says, then, with a teasing curl to his mouth, “I’ll let you make us the caf.”

\---

The dawn brings with it a light, misty rain, the dampness seeping through the room long before he wakes up and goes downstairs.

After breakfast - for which Din does make the caf for them both, to Luke’s barely concealed delight - he goes back up to the living quarters. He checks to make sure he has his blaster, his spear, spare medpac, rations - all stuffed into a duffle bag.

After a weighty moment, he grabs the dark saber too - never know when _that’s_ going to be useful, apparently. He had been so desperate, hearing Luke cry out that like, that he had forgotten how it felt wrong in his hands, had utilized it because he didn’t have another option. He’d been so grateful for it then, but it still feels unfamiliar in his hand, like he’s holding onto it for someone else, no matter what Bo-Katan and the others might think.

The kid barely stirs when Din runs a gentle hand over his head before he’s stepping outside of their room.

“Take care of him,” he orders the droid who’s already parked out front of the door. “He’ll eat anything if you don’t stop him.”

The droid makes what he can only guess is a rather exasperated sound, before pushing by him to go into the room. Din hesitates for a long moment, before continuing on down the hallway. 

Down in the front hall, Luke is standing by the entrance with that dark hood already pulled over his head. “Ready to go?” he asks, watching Din approach. He has his own bag at his side, his sleeves long enough to cover both of his hands.

A good night of sleep had done wonders to supplement his healing, and after eating, he feels fully alert. “I’m ready,” Din answers, adjusting the bag strap on his shoulders.

  
  
“The weather should clear up soon,” Luke says, already stepping to open the tall entry doors with a tilt of his hand. Sunlight filters in, illuminating the stone all around them. “We should be there by the afternoon.”

\---

The sky outside is streaked with pink and blue clouds, laying in heavy lines over the treeline. Luke sets the brisk pace ahead of him, Din walking an arm’s breadth behind as they go into the trees.

The forest teems with life even at this early hour, something he had noticed with his outings with Grogu and Luke for their lessons. There are birds chittering in the distance, small rodent-like creatures scurrying in the underbrush. The ground is soft mud underneath their feet, muffling the sound of footsteps, blurring their prints.

Din keeps an eye out through his visor just in case anything large heads in their direction, but for the most part, it’s just their steady hike through the jungle. Unlike their first voyage through the forest on this moon, the path is overgrown but cut, tucked them among the trees as they start to ascend.

Eventually, feeling the rare compulsion to say something to fill the silence, Din says, “So what is it, exactly, on top of this mountain?”

He can see the hood in front of him tilt back a little. “There are remnants of this structure,” Luke says, “Meant to aid in concentration. It’s like an amplification of the Force, where you can reach out much further.”

“I took Grogu to one of those when we were searching for a Jedi,” Din says. It seems so long ago when he was trying to break the glowing barrier to reach for him, only to get thrown back. “Is that how he reached out to you?”

  
  
“I felt him then for the first time,” Luke confirms. “When he was captured, I felt his anguish at being separated from you, and I took the X-wing to find him.”

  
  
Hollow guilt pulses through him, not for the first time. “He thought I left him?”

  
  
“No,” Luke says, and he stops to turn to face him. With his face just visible under the hood, he says, “He’s never felt abandoned by you, Din. If he had been older, I have no doubt that he would have torn that ship apart to find you, instead of the other way around.”

“I had help,” Din points out, coming to a halt too. “And you killed far more dark troopers yourself.”

“Yes, but I am a Jedi, after all,” Luke says, and then he grins, a boyish expression that highlights the dimple in his chin. He turns around before Din can stop staring, and continues uphill.

Din makes his feet work again and follows him.

\---

They reach a point where it’s clear that they have to start hiking up the side of the mountain. The trees turn into shrubs, and true to Luke’s words, the weather has cleared up, the sky bright blue over their heads. There are droplets of moisture clinging onto the shrubs that line the rocks, but no more misty rain.

Luke extends his hand back to help Din up a tall rock. He accepts, the Jedi helping to hoist him up until they’re both on top of the boulder.

“We can take a break here,” Luke decides, and he folds his robes underneath him to crouch on the ground. He slips the hood off of his head, and the sunlight glints over his light hair, tousled from the wind that they’re exposed to.

Din takes a seat, taking out the ration packs from his bag. He offers one to him, and Luke accepts, his thumb running over the side of his glove as he takes it. Din raises his helmet slightly to eat his.

As they eat, he gazes out over the scenery. It’s a nice view, like when they were flying in. Only now, he can see much further across the trees, all the way to the far ocean, which is just a streak of dark on the horizon from here. The midday sun hangs in the sky, illuminating the edges of one of Yavin’s other moons nearby. The planet itself is not visible from here, but he thinks it must swallow the sky in the winter months.

Luke finishes his ration, quickly, but seems content to let Din keep on eating rather than keep going. As they both look out over the cliff, Din manages to find the temple peeking up over the trees from here, only because he knows where to look, its color blending in with the surrounding greenery.

He swallows his bite, says, “I’m amazed that the rebellion ever had to leave the Jedi temple during the war. It looks like it would’ve been near impossible to find.”

Looking out over the trees, his arms crossed over his knees, Luke answers, “It wasn’t immune to being found by the Force. And you know, the temple wasn’t actually built by the Jedi.” When Din makes a questioning sound, he continues, “The Massassi built it - they were enslaved by the Sith, made to worship them. They had nowhere near the technology we have today, but they still managed to build in stone that’s lasted thousands of years.”

Din recalls what Luke has told him about the Sith. “So you’re planning on housing your students in a temple built by the enemy of your people?”

  
  
“The Jedi considered the Mandalorians to be their enemies, too,” Luke says, then adds, “Luckily for you, my favorite student has a soft spot for one of them.”

“Your favorite, is that it?”

“It’s probably still good you’re not a Sith lord, though.”

“Was that a joke?” Din asks him, “I wasn’t sure if the Jedi were allowed to do that.”

“Very funny,” Luke says, and Din can see that smile flit across his profile. “I take it you’re not too tired from the hike already?”

  
  
Din crumples up the remnants of the ration pack, grabbing Luke’s too to put back in his bag. “I’m ready to go on if you are.”

"Then we'll go."

\---

The remaining hike is tough. Even though he had started off fresh - or close to it, because he would never admit that his chest still twinged from the lightning strike, especially not to Luke - Din finds himself panting as they cut up a particularly steep hill, close to the top.

Despite the sun, the outside temperature gets surprisingly cool, as if the dampness in the air has frozen. Din stays reasonably warm with his flight suit and beskar, but Luke pulls up his hood once again, folding his arms in front of him as he leads them higher on the mountain.

Up here, there are fewer signs of life. There’s the occasional lizard skittering across the stone, disturbed by their presence, and gnarled, spiked vines that can survive the cold under their feet, but otherwise, they’re far more alone on the mountain face.

They keep to casual conversation now, maybe to distract themselves from the walk, their voices echoing out in the open. At one point, Luke says, “I think you’d like Leia if you were to meet her.”

That’s Senator Organa, the princess, that he’s referring to, Din thinks, still having to process that. “Is that so?”

“You’re both the most stubborn people I know, to start,” Luke says, “And you both care so very deeply. You’d respect that in each other, though I’d hate to think of what would happen if you would disagree.”

Privately, Din thinks that’s rich, coming from him, but he doesn’t voice that thought out loud. “You told me you were raised as a moisture farmer, but I’m guessing she… didn’t.”

“That’s why her name is Organa, and my name is Skywalker,” Luke clarifies, and Din hadn’t realized until just that moment that he didn’t know the man’s full name. Oblivious, Luke says, “We were separated at birth. She lived on Alderaan, and I was sent to Tatooine, to my uncle. Our uncle.”

“Because of your father?” Din guesses.

  
  
“Yes,” Luke says, and there’s a weighted sense to his words, “Because of my father.”

He sounds so serious for a moment, that Din nearly regrets saying it. Searching for something else to say, Din asks, “When you were calling her, was that… her husband that picked up, or yours?”

  
That does make Luke slow mid-step, for a moment, but Din can’t see his face from this angle. “Han? He and Leia have been married for years now. I’m - I’m not.”

“Your sister’s not a Jedi like you,” Din confirms.

  
  
“She’s Force-sensitive,” Luke says, and he turns his head, looking quizzical, “I was training her, briefly, before she had Ben - her son. Why do you ask?”

“No reason.” Din focuses on not tripping on a particularly large vine. “It makes sense. The Jedi probably don’t get married.”

“Traditionally, no,” Luke says, “Do the Mandalorians?”

  
  
“Family is important to us,” Din says. “We have marriages - though the better translation from Mando’a is partnerships. They help strengthen the clan, as well as in raising children.”

The idea of marriage had always been distant to him - as he was chosen to go above the ground, for the bounties, it had never come up in his mind or in conversation with others. He wonders if it was the same for other Mandalorians - that maybe such abstract concepts were a possibility to practice, that others had the option of those lives he never dared dream for himself. 

Luke’s quiet, likely considering this in that academic way he does with the information that Din provides him about the Mandalorians. _Oh, if only Bo-Katan knew just how much information he’s freely giving an outsider - a_ Jedi - _about their people._ Then he says, “Leia likes to tease me that if I wasn’t a Jedi, she could marry me off for political gain.”

  
  
Din snorts, mostly because the idea of treating Luke like some kind of pawn, some token to be bartered off, is absolutely ridiculous. “Are you suggesting that a life of royal leisure wouldn’t be to your taste?”

“What, you don’t think I could be a trophy?”

  
  
“I think you’re entirely too formidable to be a mere trophy,” Din says, heady from the way that Luke makes another amused sound at that.

  
  
“I’ve been told I’m quite handsome, so I still have that going for me for some time yet,” Luke says, unaware of how close Din comes to tripping once again - those fragging vines. “Oh, we’re here.”

Din swivels his head up to in front of them, but he only sees the flat rock of the mountaintop, curving ahead of them and disappearing into the open sky. “What, _here_?”

“Look down,” Luke tells him, and he comes to a full stop.

It takes him a moment, his visor software searching and coming up empty, but then he can see it. The rock surface is intricately carved, with swirls and what look like leaves curling underneath their feet, guiding them. Some of it is faded, smoothed by the elements until it’s nearly indistinguishable from the natural variation in the stone, but he follows the pattern with his eyes until he sees where it forms a labyrinth ahead of them.

Luke steps forward to follow the swirls with his feet, while Din waits at the edge of the pattern. The structure isn’t a building, he realizes, but the creation of this space - the design leading him to the center, where Luke stops, a long figure cut out from the sky.

“I’ll meditate here,” Luke calls out to him, crouching down on the stone, then folding his legs until he’s balanced in a seated position. Din sees him run a hand over a particularly thick line cut out in the rock. “Hopefully then we’ll have some answers, once and for all.”

\---


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I split this next part into two chapters entirely for the drama. also, thank you so much to all of you who subscribed to this over the past few weeks, and all of your comments have sustained me ♥
> 
> getting to some good stuff!! (good for me to write at least lol) & hope you enjoy!

As Luke focuses, his face going slack and still, Din sits down on the rock keeping outside of the perimeter of carvings. He bundles his cloak beneath him to ward off the chill, keeping a vigilant eye out around them with his visor running their standard infrared checks.

The wind whistles over the mountain face, a low hum every once in a while that vibrates beneath ever so slightly. If the view was stunning up here, it's nearly overwhelming up here, where they can see in every direction for miles and miles.

His vigilance, however, means he’s unprepared for when the Jedi’s eyes fly open, causing him to start, head swiveling back towards him. Luke gets up fast like he’s in a hurry, but something is wrong with his posture, then, freezing just as soon as he’s upright.

Din’s on his feet immediately, and he cuts across the stone, just as Luke’s legs start to buckle beneath him, like he’s swaying, like a flag caught in the wind.

“Luke!” Din catches him by his arms. But he’s not falling - Luke’s eyes are open, and something is wrong, because they’re wide, staring up into the sky, unfocused.

Maybe it’s like the nightmare he had - although no Force lightning sparks from him this time, Luke’s breathing gets shallow, his eyes unseeing the longer, the moment suspended.

Then, suddenly, he’s back to himself, recognition jumping into his eyes. Hands coming up to clutch at Din’s forearms, he says, pupils huge, “We need to go.“

“Hold on,” Din insists, holding onto him firmly, “What happened?”

“They could sense me,” Luke tells him, fingers scrabbling against him, catching into the spaces between beskar, “They felt me reach out - like they were _waiting_ for me, and now they know I’m here, Din - “

“Sense you? Like another Jedi?”

“We need to get back to the temple,” Luke urges him instead, shrugging free of his grip. His hand is already on his saber as he moves past him, headed back to the path. “Whoever it is, I don’t know if they’re searching for Grogu, but we can’t take that risk - “

Before he can go too far, though, Din catches his arm once again. As much as he hates to admit it, he says, “We can’t do that. It’ll be nightfall, and we’ll break our necks going down this mountain. And - “ as Luke starts to pull away from him, he tightens his grip, “ - if someone’s coming for us, we can’t go in already exhausted - Luke, _stop_."

Luke turns to face him, and he looks mutinous for a split second. But he doesn’t pull away. “What do you suggest, then?”

He hates to say it even if it’s the right thing to do. Din continues, “We alert your droid, tell him to take Grogu in the X-wing away from the temple. He can do that, right?”

Luke opens his mouth and then shuts it just as soon as Din shrugs off his wrist piece with the build-in comm, letting go of him in order to hand it over. “Dial his communication code on this,” he orders, holding it out, “It’ll have the range. Do you know a place to send them?”

Luke accepts it, looking between him and the device before he turns on the screen.

Din watches his face rather than listen to him, as he informs Artoo of the situation, before disconnecting. His fingers rest on the piece, running over the edge of the glass display, back and forth. His arm should feel bare of its usual weight, only in Luke's hands, he doesn't miss the weight of it like he normally might. 

"He'll be okay," Din says out loud, while Luke stays silent. It's for both of their benefits - because he needs to believe in that, and it looks like Luke, does, too. "He has us." 

Luke hands him back the wrist piece, at last, now looking out over the treeline with a troubled expression. “The waterfall I told Artoo about is southwest of us,” he says, “ We can be there in a few hours once we get off the mountain.”

“That’ll work,” Din says, then his voice comes out far softer, “Are you okay?”

“We’ll need to leave the moon,” Luke just says, still looking though as he's working through something in his mind. “It’ll be a tight fit for all us in the ship if I have to maneuver us in an emergency out of orbit, but it’ll have to do.”

“It’ll work,” Din says, then, “Who was it, that you sensed before?”

  
  
Luke shakes his head, slowly. “It doesn’t make any sense. I couldn’t recognize the signature, but it’s a powerful Force user out there. It’s not someone untrained - but _I don’t know who it could be.”_ He punctuates this last part with a clenched fist, swinging down. On some instinct, Din catches his wrist once again, gently, holding it in between them.

“Could it be your sister?” Din asks, grasping for some explanation, “Or the other Jedi I met?”

  
  
“I would have known if it was Leia,” Luke says, looking up at him. “If what you’ve told me of Ahsoka is true, she wouldn’t have any reason to hide from us like this. They’re strong enough to redirect anyone from coming near this planet, so it’s just us and them.”

“Whoever it is,” Din realizes, “They’re behind the blockade - but if they’re so strong, why wouldn’t they just invade and come after us? Why wait until you reached out directly?”

  
  
“They know they’ll have no witnesses to whatever they’re planning,” Luke says, something dark seeping into his voice. Din can’t help the shiver as he adds, “And I have to think they’ve been watching us this whole time - observing.”

\---

They make camp as soon as night falls, planning on resuming as soon as the sun rises. Off the mountain, the forest is an entirely different species at night - all faraway howls and groans of the creatures and plants, hidden among the trees, reminding them they’re not alone.

Din offers to take the first watch shift, only Luke shakes his head. “I won’t sleep for a while,” he says, already moving to sit cross-legged on the ground as he had on the mountaintop across from him. They’ve found a break in the trees where they can stretch out, and it’s warm enough, surrounded by the thick cover of the forest, that they don’t start a fire.

“Even a Jedi needs to sleep eventually,” Din points out, in case this is some point of pride with him.

“I don’t mean it like that,” Luke says. “There’s something that I’m missing. I can’t sleep because I don’t understand… there’s no explanation that makes sense for what I felt up there.”

“You can’t torture yourself about it,” Din says to that. In the darkness, he can’t make out Luke’s features, relying on the thermal sensors to even know he’s there in the first place. “Whoever it is, they’re powerful, right?”

“They are.”

“You did your best,” Din says bluntly, pushing aside twigs so the dirt floor is a little more comfortable for rest. “We’re going to figure it out. The weight of that, it doesn’t just fall on your shoulders.”

  
  
Luke is silent for long enough that Din settles down on the ground more fully. He takes off his helmet in the cover of the night, feeling the cool air flood his face, as he closes his eyes. The breeze washes over his skin, bring him to the edge of drowsiness after the long day of walking they’ve had.

Din can hear Luke shift, at last. “Thank you,” he says, quietly, “For saying that.”

He means to answer, but sleep claims him soon after.

\---

He dreams, perhaps unexpected given the conditions of their makeshift camp, but it’s bright, vivid, so unlike anything, he’s experienced in a while.

The dreams are twisted together with snippets of memory at first - crashing on Maldo Kreis, the sensation of ice creeping into his skin even through beskar, the banging of the ice spider’s legs on the hull of the Razor Crest.

The ice melts away into molten glass, then, and it's sliding all over him now, free of any armor. But instead of burning him, they’re harmlessly forming over his skin, weaving their way around his fingers, down his torso. Din watches as the glass coats his skin, different colors of light refracting through each time the glass shifts in place.

The glass shatters, and he realizes he’s holding the dark saber, standing on the top of a dune, fully armored. Luke is there, then, and he’s holding Din’s wrist, just above the saber, thumb against the bare skin. He’s saying something that Din can’t quite make out, even though he’s right beside him, his lips moving. Din can feel the ghost of the sensation, through beskar, like his lips are right against his ear, touching him.

And there’s that sensation again, curling from behind his sternum, radiating outwards, and he reaches up to where his helmet’s starting to drag on the back of his neck, feeling and now, oh _now_ , he _burns_ -

\---

Din wakes up, and it's still nightfall. He sits up, scrubbing a hand over his eyes.

He hears Luke move to lie down on the ground as if he hears Din wake up. They're both in sync without the exchange of words, switching positions without a word. 

Din forces his mind to clear in preparation for the watch, crossing his arms over his knees as he sits, staring blankly into the treeline.

By the time the dawn sun just begins to bring light to the sky, he pulls his helmet back on. Not long after, Luke wakes up, rolling over and looks right at him.

Since he can’t see his expression, Din raises his hand in acknowledgment - immediately feeling ridiculous upon doing so, only a faint smile comes across Luke’s face at it, briefly interrupting the troubled expression on his face.

\---

They eat quickly. Din doesn’t mention his dream to him, and Luke seems to be still preoccupied in his head, his fingers steepled under his chin as he waits for Din to finish. 

“It’ll be a long walk for us,” Luke says out loud, as they continue their hike, “By now, Artoo will have hidden Grogu at the rendezvous point.”

Din ducks below a low vine. “They’ll be fine,” he says, and he means it - for his comfort or Luke’s, he’s not sure. “I’m more concerned about you at the moment.”

Luke’s foot drags slightly on the undergrowth. “Me? Why?”

“The way you reacted up there,” Din says, and he’s been considering it since he woke up, in the back of his head, and now it comes clear to him as he gives voice to the thought. “How many times have you had nightmares like you did the other night?”

Sounding bemused, Luke says, “Never - not like that, at least.”

“Could it have been the result of that other Jedi messing with your mind?” Din asks him, “Someone with that power, to - I don’t know, poke around in your head?”

“No Jedi would do that,” Luke says, and then like he’s realizing it at the same time, “It means someone who’s using the dark side, for that kind of invasion - maybe. I don't even know if it's possible, I've never tried that."

“I know _you_ wouldn't,” Din says, “But someone who’s seeking you or the kid, it’d be possible to do, wouldn't it?”

They make a gradual turn in the forest, and he can barely make out Luke's profile, the vegetation blocking most of the light overhead. “Maybe,” he says, “And in that case, we should move faster.”

—-

He can feel the waterfall long before they get there.

They come across a river, and they follow it along the bank, the ground sloping down as the water collects and grows. The air becomes stickier, more humid, the first true sign of their approach.

Din’s seen plenty of waterfalls in his time, usually from the windshield of his ship as he leaves a planet, but rarely from the ground like this. He can hear it before long, the hissing roar of water plummeting down, so it gives them a sense of how massive the falls are even before they come up to it.

The trees give way to a clearing of sorts, then bringing them to the edge of the cliff that intersects with the river. The water pours down into a basin carved of mud and stone, then splitting into two and running in opposite directions far below them. With each gust of wind, they’re pelted with drops of water. Din wipes his visor down with the cloth covering his inner forearm.

“The ship is down there,” Luke says, as they peer over the cliff. Din can make out the shape of the hull from up here, half-tucked in the trees but undeniably the X-wing. The waterfall is too tall to jump down, even with the pool of water to land in - they risk being dashed upon the rocks, his visor helpfully highlights, just under the surface. “We can cut down on the left there, follow it down."

It’s too quiet around them, even with the roar of water. Something in his instincts sets him off - and Din throws his arm up on reflex, stopping Luke from moving forward. “Wait.“

Luke has already stopped in his tracks, though. “They’re here,” he says, “They already found us.”

“You feel them?” 

  
  
“They’re behind the waterfall,” Luke answers, “Beneath us - just one. The cave entrance is over there, but they’re not moving to exit.”

Din runs his visors just as Luke’s words confirm what he sees. A single heat source, below their feet - someone lying in wait, maybe to ambush them as they try to make it down the side of the waterfall - or maybe just _waiting_. “Can we get to the ship before they exit?”

“I’ll confront them in there,” Luke says, jaw visibly tightening, “You go to Artoo and Grogu - “

“I’m not letting you go in by yourself,” Din says sharply, “Whoever it is - “

“This is a Force user,” Luke says, sounding maddeningly analytical about it, “You won’t be able to defend yourself as I can.”

“And if they take you out? He needs you to protect him just as much as me - “

“Din,” Luke says, “Grogu needs one of us -“

“Tell Artoo that if we don’t come out,” Din says firmly, “He should take Grogu far away from here as he can. I’m not letting you go in by yourself, and that’s it.” He interjects those last few words with stubbornness, hoping Luke picks up that he’ll have to knock him out to stop him from following. “Okay?”

“You are…” Luke starts, then stops. He’s got that unhappy line in his forehead, but he must sense Din’s absolute refusal, looking like he’s resigned to gritting his teeth instead.

“I know,” Din tells him. “Use my comm again - " 

Instead of waiting for him to take it off, Luke leans over to pick up Din’s wrist, turning it to use the device. Din watches him as he dials Artoo once again, his eyes never leaving his visor as he can see through it. Din is reminded of his dream, and forces himself to concentrate, as Luke finishes with, " - let you know as soon as we can. Thank you, Artoo." 

He doesn’t let go of his hand after he sends the transmission. His fingers tighten for a fraction, and Luke says, “Stay close to me.”

“I will,” Din says, and Luke finally lets go of his arm. 

\---

They enter the cave through a large crack in the ground that Luke guides them to. It’s a natural formation that snags Luke’s cloak as he slips down, and Din slides in to follow him into the cavern.

The sound of the water is muffled, down here, with the sound of dripping water echoing around them. In the nearly non-existent light, Din adjusts his visor to his night vision settings, while Luke moves like he can sense where the rocks just barely scrape the top of his head, ducking to avoid running into any of them in the nick of time. 

The water starts to get louder, again, and then there’s light coming from around a bend in the cave tunnel. Din focuses on Luke’s breathing, staying steady as they come around the corner, moving to step at his side. 

It’s a platform tucked behind the waterfall, a dead-end from where they came. Two sides of solid limestone, and then a wall of rushing water that traps them all in together. The light filters through the water so that it illuminates the single figure that’s already there, standing alone among the stone. 

The person has a hood pulled over their head, their hands crossed in front of them. Din can just pick up the faint rise and fall of their shoulders, but otherwise, they look like another rock formation - immovable, _w_ _aiting for them -_

“That’s impossible,” Luke says, his voice joining the echoes around them. He draws his light saber. The green glow casts his drawn face in sharp contrast despite the light coming in from where the waterfall rushes down past them. “Who are you?”

They can only watch as the person lifts their arms, slipping their hood off.

  
The first thing Din notices is those eyes.

Those blue eyes - they’re the same as ones he’s grown to know over the past few weeks. But instead of the warmth that Luke looks at him with, there’s an eerie hollowness to them, regarding him with none of the kindness or the affection that he sees in Luke’s.

Then he recognizes the rest of his face, with slow, dawning horror. It’s not just someone who vaguely resembles Luke. It looks _just like him_.

“Well,” the man with Luke’s face says, “You still have the Mandalorian by your side. That, I didn’t expect.”

\---


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i did promise a second part soon!! there will be more of a break before I get the next one done because of life but hope you look forward to it :)
> 
> so full disclosure related to a major point of this chapter, I had this idea on my own, then while looking up how feasible this idea would be, I found out that this plot point was indeed a thing from a little something called the thrawn trilogy. so parts are borrowed from there, and some parts are for my own plot purposes! I pick and choose how sci fi science works, and I will stand by it lmao
> 
> most importantly - if a chapter doesn't end with someone passing out, how else do you know how to end it???? the adventure is really starting now :o) once again, living for all your comments!

\---

He even sounds like Luke. The possibilities race through Din’s head - evil twin? Modified droid? Some strange Jedi ritual? They’re more and more ridiculous, and he thinks he’d laugh out loud if only the hairs weren’t standing on the back of his neck from the mere presence of this man in front of them. 

He’s never heard Luke sound like that. Even at his most controlled, or when they argued, Luke has never sounded that- that _cold._ It feels so wrong, to hear Luke’s voice sound like that, even if it’s not coming from his mouth. Even if it looks just like his mouth -

“Stay back,” Luke says, under his breath to Din, before he steps forward with his lightsaber held defensively in front of him.

“I didn’t think you would bring collateral damage,” not-Luke says instead, taking a step to the side that has Din putting his hand on his spear. Nearly dismissively, he says, “No matter. I’ll give you one chance to come with me now.”

“I’m guessing you let the vornskr loose on us,” Luke says, and he mirrors his clone’s footsteps. They start to circle around each other on the wet stone, Din obeying Luke’s words in his stunned silence. “Was that just to scare us?”

“They helped me confirm you had arrived on this planet,” not-Luke tells him. “Did you know that they used to be bred as guard dogs, then used to hunt down Jedi?”

“I don’t know what you want,” Luke says, his voice hard with his back to Din, “But you won’t find it from me - whatever you are.”

“You must suspect,” not-Luke answers. “You lost a hand. There was enough genetic material recovered, to scrape together.”

Din can’t read Luke’s expression from this angle but sees his shoulders stiffen. “You’re my clone?

  
  
“Close enough to one,” not-Luke answers. He has no lightsaber drawn, but Luke keeps on circling him, warily, like he’s about to attack. The water rushes on past them, the light shining through the waterfall.It’s probably not a good sign that he’s willingly giving them this information, Din thinks.

“I lost my hand years ago,” Luke answers, turning the saber slowly in his grip as he moves, “Why are you here now?” Maybe he’s trying to catch him off guard, to get the answers before - whatever comes next.

Not-Luke lets out an amused sound at that. “Your flesh wasn’t enough on its own. They needed an infusion of high m-count blood to ensure that I would be able to utilize the Force, after all.”

_His blood is special_ , that scientist Pershing had said. The realization hits him - and Din draws his spear at last. He says roughly, “They used Grogu’s blood.”

Not-Luke’s eyes drift past Luke to him. “The Child’s blood was powerful enough to speed up the process to a matter of days,” he answers. “Now they need a new sample from the genetic source.”

“You won’t get it,” Luke says flatly. “You can tell your masters that, whoever they are.”

“They’ve recognized that as long as you remain free, you are a liability to their operations,” not-Luke tells him. “They sent me to offer you a chance to do this willingly before I take you back to them, one way or another. They’ll make an army of those like us, to bring peace and order to the galaxy at last.”

Luke’s hand visibly tightens on the saber. “You’re not the first to have said that to me,” he says, steadily. His profile now visible, he turns to look right at Din, and he says, “Go, _now - “_

“He won’t leave you,” not-Luke says before Din can do so much as blink. His mouth curls. “I can sense how he’s _loyal_ to you. You - and to the Child, right?”  
  


  
They’re both silent for a beat too long. A smirk crawls up not-Luke’s face, and he says, “I could sense him as soon as I landed on this planet. I know you have him here, waiting for you. Maybe I’ll take him with us after I - “

There’s a blur of green light, and Din can only watch as Luke rapidly closes the distance between them, swinging his saber directly at the clone’s head. Not-Luke dodges the initial blow, though, ducking underneath the blade and coming up on the other side.

He draws his own lightsaber, then - the color of the blade is bright yellow, glaring against the green. “This could even be fun,” the clone drawls, balancing it in his hands. “Will you lose your temper, Jedi, or will you try to keep me alive? You certainly want to kill me.”

Din pulls out his beskar spear, and he charges at his other side, aiming to strike at the clone while Luke keeps him occupied from the front. Only not-Luke can sense when he’s about to make contact, and he neatly steps so the spear goes too far, past him. He’s fighting both of them, now, parrying Luke’s blows as he evades Din’s.

He fights just as deftly as Luke, only there’s another edge about him. More vicious, unrelenting like Luke but with less control, sheer power as he counteracts both of them. The clone dodges another direct strike from Luke, bringing his saber back so Din has to throw himself to the side,the blade glancing off the beskar with flying sparks.

He lands on his elbow and hip, sliding across the slick rock. Across the cave, Luke and the clone continue to fight, beams of whirling light and pebbles flying in every direction as they move.

Luke jumps in the air to avoid a hit, and he pushes into the air with his hand. The clone’s back hits the rock with a thud, but the blade stays in his hand. “It’s a valiant try,” not-Luke tells him, and he’s floating back off the wall, air below his feet. “But you’ll have to do better than those tricks with me.”

There’s a loud _crack_ overhead. Din recognizes the sound, shouts, “The roof!”

Luke throws himself to the side just in time. A hunk of limestone crashes into the cave floor, a stalactite that would have crushed him where he was standing. Din and the clone are on one side, with Luke on the other, scattered in the cave.

Din readies his grip on the spear in preparation to attack him. Only it’s pulled from his hands, too fast for him to react. The spear clatters uselessly against the stone, too far away to retrieve with the clone not two lengths away from him.

“You’re in over your head,” not-Luke says, glancing at him at last. “You don’t use the Force, Mandalorian. You’ll die before things even get interesting.”

“I put up more of a fight than you’d expect,” Din tells him, and he draws the dark saber from his belt, the black glow of the blade outlined in white.

Interest flits across the clone’s features. Din swallows, because it’s so vividly Luke’s face that he’s seeing, despite everything, as he faces Din next. “The dark saber,” not-Luke says, raising his voice as if to address Luke and insult him together, “Your pet has a _toy_.”

Not rising to the bait, Din holds the saber in front of him, wielding it like Luke had - crossed in front of him, his other arm as a brace. It still feels unnatural, to wield it, even as he prepares to make his move.

Not-Luke’s eyes flick back to Din, and they narrow -

His throat constricts, and he suddenly can’t breathe. Din gags, only he has no air to make any sound. He scrabbles at his helmet, dropping the saber trying to find relief, as the pressure increased, his vision darkening on the edges.

There’s a loud clang, and Din can breathe again just as quickly, the choking sensation gone. As he recovers, he can make out Luke back on his feet, distracting the clone as he swings the lightsaber again and again at him, forcing him away from Din.

“Not,” he can make out Luke saying, “- him - “

They come to a halt once again, blades mirrored to each other as they circle each other. Not-Luke lets out a low laugh. “Tell me, Skywalker,” he says, taunting as he runs his blade down Luke’s, causing a bizarre screeching sound as yellow swipes over the green, “I can feel your shock. Does it surprise you that it was so easy for me to use the dark side?”

“The dark side doesn’t make you stronger,” Luke tells him, “It’s easier - “ and he parries a blow from the clone, neatly twisting to turn the force of it back onto him, making him stagger for a split second, “ - when you’re only moved by fear. Whoever taught you otherwise - “

“You’re the one who’s afraid,” not-Luke cuts in. Din gets back on his feet, tightening his grip on the dark saber as he slips against the cave wall, as quietly as he can manage. “You think you’re building something, here. You, and the Mandalorian, and the Child, it’s just something I can take from you, make _you_ suffer.”

  
  
“Don’t talk about them,” Luke says, with uncharacteristic roughness to his voice. “Your fight is with me - “

“There’s that Jedi honor,” the clone says, a sneer in his voice. “No - I see it now. Your fear is deeper than that. You look at me, and you see who you could become,“ and he dodges another hit, continues to speak, “Maybe I won’t have to even convince you. You’ll make excuses like our father did, because it’s all for your noble cause, isn’t it? It can’t be for evil, because you _believe_ in it. You’ll lose them all along the way, eventually, because you’re so afraid of becoming him, you won’t let yourself love as he did in case - “

“You don’t know me,” Luke says, low and dangerously. The hairs on the back of Din’s neck rise once more, as he ducks to avoid another slash. “You don’t get to say that.”

“I don’t know you,” the clone says, “I _am_ you.”

Over his shoulder, Luke’s eyes widen when he sees Din, posed behind them. Holding the handle with both hands, Din drives the saber forward, right at the clone’s unarmed back.

He manages to land enough of a hit that he can smell burning fabric, the sizzle of skin - only then the clone whirls around, before the strike can cause real injury, pulling away from the blade.

It’s a testament to his armor that he’s not cleaved in two with the responding hit, the lightsaber striking him right in the chest and moving up. Agony races up his side, as Din is pushed away, a combination of the blow and the Force moving him - from which Luke, he’s not sure, as he registers the sensation of flying. 

He sees stars when he lands, his shoulder making a horrible sound as it takes his full weight on the unforgiving stone ground.

“Din!” Luke shouts, and Din can only watch in horror when the clone seizes the opportunity of Luke worrying over him to attack.

He’s too close to use the lightsaber on him, so he smartly drops it to order to move in close, grabbing him and twisting so that Luke’s arm is pulled up behind him. Luke lashes out with his other elbow, kicking simultaneously at his legs, but his saber drops at his feet, too, and he’s trapped.

They’re both silhouetted like this, the water rushing down behind them, identical in the dark. “I think I’ll kill him first, here,” not-Luke says, nearly conversationally, “I’ll take that saber of his. Make you feel that rage that you deny yourself when you see me crush him in all that shiny armor - “

Luke throws his head back at his clone’s face. It connects with a sickening crunch - only in return, the clone wrenches Luke’s arm down, hard.Luke shouts, the sound jagged with pain _,_ and Din sees the sparks in the darkness. He’s ripped off the prosthetic hand, and nausea floods through him.

Luke falls to his knees, kept barely upright only by the tight grip that the clone has on his elbow. “I’ll find the Child after that,” not-Luke tells him, bringing his head down to speak in Luke’s ear, though Din can hear him too. “And maybe by then, you’ll give in to what you are owed, because you’ll want revenge - oh, it burns brightly in you, I can feel it. You’ve already lost yourself in it, haven’t you - “

In the middle of speaking, he doesn’t notice how Din’s fingers close around his blaster, aim it at him. He fires two shots in the clone’s direction from his position still on the ground.

Neither of them hit - not-Luke is able to curve out the shots with the Force so they bounce harmlessly around in the cave - but it gives Luke an opportunity in turn in his grasp.

Luke pushes up off the ground with a show of sudden force, freeing himself of his grip. Then he kicks _out_ , his boot landing squarely in not-Luke’s chest, his eyes blazing. 

The other staggers back and Luke shoves at him with his shoulder, finally, toppling him over the edge, barely catching himself on the stone to stop his own fall.

The clone falls back out of the waterfall, his cloak fluttering, and he disappears into the mist. 

\---

It’s nearly anti-climatic. The fact that both he and Luke are still breathing, staring out where the clone had disappeared - it feels surreal. 

The blood’s still pounding in his ears, as Luke clutches the ruins of his prosthetic hand to his chest. Feeling something close to fear to even voice it out loud, Din rasps, “Is he dead?“

“Not likely,” Luke says, shortly, his breathing coming out in shudders. “Incapacitated, for now, but he'll have sent for someone to retrieve him. You - we have to - “

  
  
“Right behind you,” Din says, and he gets to his feet, painfully aware of his side, gripping the slick stone to help him rise. " _Fuck,"_ he gets out, unwillingly clutching onto the wall. 

At the same time, Luke realizes, “You’re hurt.“

“Been worse,” Din gets out. A rib is fractured, and his shoulder is likely dislocated, but the adrenaline will keep him moving, at least, even as his visor beeps in alarm at the damage to his body. “Your hand?”

“The nerve settings have died now,” Luke says, and he’s already slipping right beside Din, putting his arm around his back, dropping the other over his shoulders, helping him limp out of there. He has both of the sabers on his belt, Din realizes, bumping into Din’s thigh every few steps as they move.

Every breath is like breathing in embers, but he focuses on their heavy footsteps. One foot in front of the other, then the next, and then the next. Luke guides them back through the tunnel they had entered, as Din hears his own breathing rattle in his chest, the taste of blood in his mouth.

He bumps into the side of the cave entrance as Luke pulls him up into the sunlight, and he sees black for a moment.

By the time his vision fully recovers, they’re halfway down the side of the waterfall. Din realizes he’s being floated, Luke’s hand carefully pressed in his shoulder as if to reassure him, as they make their way down. He closes his eyes when the dizziness threatens to overtake him once again, his muscles going slack.

When he opens them again, they’re on the ground, the X-wing in front of them, already running. 

Luke is already in the ship, and he’s guiding Din’s body up, ever so carefully, until he’s being placed in the spare seat without any other effort, Luke taking the pilot’s seat in turn. He starts flipping the switches so the engine starts to rumble, as Din makes his fingers work, pulling the straps over his chest even as it makes him bite back a hiss.

“He’s going to be all right,” Luke’s voice, quiet, comes to his ears - not to him. Din forces his eyes open and sees the object of his address. Grogu is there, making a concerned, chattering sound, as he reaches for him.

“Hey, kid,” Din says, relief flooding through him. Grogu climbs into his lap, his big eyes swimming in his vision, and he tries not to flinch at him being so close to his injury. “Sorry we - took so long.”

“We need somewhere we can go,” he can hear Luke says out loud, sounding distracted, “Artoo, pull up a map. Damn it, we can’t go to Coruscant in case - Bespin, maybe, if we can make it on this fuel?”

  
  
“Mandalore,” Din says, hoarsely.

A pause, then Luke says, “What?”

“It's close enough. They’ll protect us there,” Din says, forcing out the words. 

"Are you sure?"  
  
  


“Go to Mandalore," Din says. He’s so tired, as he succeeds finally in latching himself into the seat, that the words don't come to him. He pushes out, in his mind, something like reassurance. It's their only hope, he thinks, to get somewhere away from here that even a Jedi clone might think twice about following. 

Suddenly, he feels something like a hand come up underneath his helmet, checking the back of his head, before resting just underneath his neck. He hasn’t been touched like that in such a long time, he thinks, that it makes him wonder how much of it is him hallucinating it all, feeling the soft press of fingers carding against his hair - in his mind, he thinks, because his helmet is still on, but the sensation is as vivid as if in reality. 

“You heard him,” Luke’s voice comes from somewhere above him, as Din feels the ship start to pull them up into the air, “Artoo, plot the course."

The ship accelerates under them. As the straps start to dig into his torso, he finally slips into dark, unknowing slumber. 

\---


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello everyone! thank you for being patient, and here's an extra-long chapter with some real good stuff in it as a treat ;) hope you're all staying as safe & healthy as possible, let me know what you think of the update/how everything's going!

They’re still drifting through space when he comes to.

The cramped quarters of the refurbished X-wing mean that he can take in the sight before him all at once. He sees the pale back of Luke’s head; closer, Grogu tilting his ears at him, cooing at the sight of him awake because he always seems to know, helmet or not. The beep of the droid, even, somewhere behind him, as Din tries to roll his neck, testing his muscles. 

_They’re all alive._ For the second time in a handful of days, he has the distinct scent of bacta flooding his nostrils. One of those sprays, Din thinks, given his armor’s still in place around him. The bacta gives a hazy quality to the air around him, or maybe that’s in part because of the low power sensors flickering around them. The dark saber is back on his belt, as he can feel its weight on him.

“Welcome back,” Luke says, and he turns around as far as he can in the pilot’s seat to look at him. “We have to stop making this a recurring event.”

The relief is clear on his face, though, enough so the words barely register. Din finds his mouth unspeakably dry, and has to work his mouth to get the words loud enough for him to hear “That’d be a good idea,” he says, feeling Grogu’s tiny hand clutch at his through his glove. He’s still perched on his lap, huddled against his cuirass -not that there’s anywhere else he could be, but it brings him relief all the same, that he’s close.

Din clears his throat, asks, “Where are we?”

  
“Coming up on Mandalore. We’ll have just enough power to get there,” Luke says. Unease prickles at his voice as he adds, “I didn’t know anyone still lived on that planet.”

It was easier to make the call when he was half-delirious with pain and in need of a place for them to crash land. Now, he wonders even more what they’re going to arrive at - if it’s a molten wasteland, or even more hostile. From the slight intake of breath that Luke gives at the time he considers how to answer, Din thinks that he hasn’t entirely been successful in hiding that uncertainty.

“They didn’t, until recently,” Din says finally. “Bo-Katan talked about reclaiming it, establishing it once again for the Mandalorians. Knowing her, she’s already sent the ones she’s found there.”

“And they’ll accept outsiders?” Luke asks, and, well, _isn’t that the million credit question?_

“I’ll be there to talk to them,” Din says, choosing not to bring up that he’s counting on his kin not immediately recognizing who Luke is. Grogu is a foundling, so he’ll be fine, but he can’t exactly count on the same hospitality being extended to a Jedi if the myths are true.

Artoo beeps from behind him, then saying something in hurried droid-speak. “Your hand,” Din remembers then, “Does it hurt?”

“I’ll need to build a replacement,” Luke answers. “I’ll need some supplies for that, but it’s not urgent. You should be resting for now, though.”

The memory of the fight with the clone is coming back to him in bits and pieces. Din thinks of the clone’s words, hurled at Luke as sharp as any blade. It surpasses the ache he feels in his ribs, thinking of Luke sitting here in the dim light of the ship, poring over those words alone for the past few hours.

_\- you’ll make excuses like our father did, because it’s all for your noble cause, isn’t it? It can’t be for evil, because you believe in it. You’ll lose them all along the way, eventually, because you’re so afraid of becoming him -_

He forces himself to focus through the cloud of bacta. “What the clone said back there,” Din starts, “You’re not like that.”

Luke hits a button on the dashboard. “He was trying to provoke me,” he says, his voice too flat for Din to read into it without seeing his full expression.

“You’re not like him,” Din tells him, gritting his teeth so he can sit up more in his cramped seat as if that’ll make Luke listen to him. “You’re not your father, either. Not from what you’ve told me.”

He can see his hand come up, make a small adjustment on their route to Mandalore on the glowing screen. “You didn’t even know who he was,” Luke points out.

  
  
“But I know you,” Din says. He can just barely hear Luke’s breathing, steady like he’s focusing on it. He pushes on through his words, says, “You told me, once, that it’s impossible to fight that fear and anger alone. Your strength comes from having others around you to help you in that. Your clone - he’s alone. With the kind of power that you have, that Grogu has, to feel the world around you - you need others even more than the rest of us, maybe.”

He hears an amused sound, despite everything. “Most people think that Jedi don’t need anything or anyone else.”

“The Way tells us to protect others,” Din tells him anyway. “You have - me. You have Grogu. You have your sister, her husband, everyone who cares about you. You’re not alone like him.”

Luke doesn’t say anything for a while, and he takes the opportunity to run a diagnostic through his helmet. He’ll have to make some repairs to his jumpsuit, and the helmet helpfully reminds him of his rib injury, but his shoulder’s mostly healed by now. The effects of the bacta spray have started to fade, and as Din registers dull pain in his side, his mind starts to clear too.

There’s a warning beep from the cabin - probably related to the low power. The ship dips, and Din can make out the planet in the far distance, looming ahead of them, a spot amongst the void of space.

“His saber was yellow,” Luke says, rather out of nowhere as Artoo adjusts their trajectory for them. “A yellow kyber crystal.”

  
“Are they rare?” Din recalls their conversation over sorting rations when Luke had offhandedly mentioned his search for those crystals to build more lightsabers for his future students. Already planning for something ten, twenty years down the line - he had told Din of that vision, so freely, like it was guaranteed, and not like he expected to them to be fleeing that very planet only days later.

“Not particularly,” Luke answers, “I found one, once. The Jedi used to build with natural crystals - green like mine. Yellow ones, sometimes, for Sentinels back in the day.”

Din, sensing this is more than a history lesson for Grogu’s benefit, lets him finish. Luke continues, “The yellow can also come from when you try to adapt synthetic crystals, like the ones that the Sith used. Someone who’s come from using the dark side of the Force, but isn’t inherently evil themselves, you could say.”

“Maybe you’re thinking too much into the color of his sword,” Din says, but his attempt to lighten the conversation seems to fall flat.

“I can’t help but think about how if that clone is at all like me, he thinks he’s doing what needs to be done,” Luke says. “Even through all the anger he felt, that I felt in him, that he wasn’t made to only follow the dark side in the Force. That he went in that direction instead wasn’t some sort of rewiring, but it was from his circumstances. That given the right circumstances in my own life - ”

“You’re not like that,” Din says immediately. “You’re not like anyone else I’ve met.” He hides the way the words make him want to swallow again. Because for one, long, dangerous moment, he feels as if he’s laying himself bare. If he’s not careful with how he says it, how he might want to say it -once it’s out there, he can’t take it back.

He pushes those thoughts aside forcefully, insists, _“_ You’ll drive yourself mad trying to rationalize the actions of a clone.”

When Luke speaks next, it's with a note of finality to his voice. “That clone is proof that given the right conditions, I could do terrible things. It wouldn’t even mean giving into the dark side, maybe - I wouldn’t even know until it was too late, and then I might not even care, because I would think I was _right_ all along.”

Those last words are said in a bitter kind of tone that he’s never heard from him. Grasping for the words, Din repeats, “You’re not like him, Luke. You’re not doomed to do anything - you make your own choices in this life. Can you at least trust me on that?”

“Of course I trust you,” Luke answers, fast, and something inside him turns over, long and slow, confirmation of that he had not dared to ask for.

It’s the growing truth that he doesn’t let himself think about, let alone voice out loud because Luke could never accept that. He can’t, and Din has never been built for selfishness.

  
  
Din stares, almost unseeing, out the front windshield of the X-wing. Grogu pats at his helmet, concerned at his lapse in conversation. Remembering the last time that Grogu had seen him hurt, he says quietly to him, “Don’t worry about me.”

They continue hurtling through space, the planet growing larger and larger in their sights ahead.

\---

The ship groans and creaks as they enter the Mandalore atmosphere. All around them, the air is thick with dark, blue-black clouds streaking past the glass.

Din holds onto Grogu - who’s strapped to his chest now, too - as Luke aims the ship to cut through the atmosphere. He really is a good pilot, much better than Din would be in this X-wing, modifications or not - and with one hand, no less, as he takes the ship into the manual mode to bring them down through the skies.

“It’s going to be a rough landing,” Luke says, sounding rather grim as the ship starts to wobble underneath them, the power finally giving out so they’re forced to coast on gusts of air coming up. “If we have to eject from - _kriff_ \- “ cutting off his words as the dashboard lights up entirely, the droid squealing behind them.

Grogu whimpers. Din leans his helmet down, bringing his forehead against the kid’s head. “Shh,” he says, in an attempt to comfort him, “You’ll be fine - “

The ship creaks and groans in protest, but then they’re finally passing through the clouds, at last, to reveal the planet ahead of them.

Din picks up his head to look through the glass. There are miles and miles of the desert as far as they can see, the blue color of the sky meeting the dark orange that ripples out in dunes and crests. On the horizon, there are hazy impressions of structures - an old city, constructed of metal that glints as they drop. It’s a giant dome, he realizes, protecting the structures from the sand and whatever else that’s out there.

Luke spares a glance down at the climate sensors, his hand tight on the throttle. “It’s breathable for now out there,” he confirms, “That makes the next part easier, at least.”

The ship gives another jolt, and Din watches as Luke eases them down, as much as he can without stalling the engine. “Is anyone else out there?”

“There are life forms about six klicks away,” Luke says, “We can try to land closer, but I’m not sure how much further we can go on this charge - “

He pulls up, hoisting the ship’s nose up so that they glide through the air, then rapidly cranking the landing gear so they increase their drag. The ship starts slowing down as the sand comes closer and closer, but far faster than he’s comfortable with such an uncontrolled fall.

Din’s fingers tighten on Grogu’s robes, as Luke says, “Touch down in three, two - “, and he braces them against the hull -

There’s a crackling sound, the ship losing the last vestige of power, and then they make contact with the surface. Din bangs his head on the ship’s ceiling, as Grogu makes a startled whine again, and the three of them are jostled in the compartment as the ship skids forward, kicking up reddish sand everywhere outside.

The ship finally slides to a stop, and it’s utterly silent around them. He can see there’s smoke already coming from somewhere, and once Din makes sure Grogu is okay, he takes out his knife, saws the painfully tight seatbelt off of them.

Luke, already coughing, hits a button. The compartment opens up, and a fine cloud of dust rains down on them. Din wipes his visor, says, “Are you okay?”

  
  
“Fine,” Luke says, sounding only slightly strained, “Are you and Grogu all right?”

  
  
“We are,” Din says, then, “Good landing.”

A hoarse laugh, then, “I try.”

Luke makes his way out of the ship first, as Din rises from the seat. There’s a thick plume of smoke coming from the back near the droid, who squeals until Luke flips a latch, lifting him out with the Force and putting him on the sand.

The air is hotter than on Tatooine, even. He sees that in the sand there are bits of metal and crystal that looks like it’s been ground together in a shimmering texture.

To get out himself, Din passes the kid to Luke, before swinging his legs out with a muffled curse when his ribs betray him. He lands unsteadily on his feet, leans against the ship until the black dots clear from his vision.

Turned away from him, Luke tucks Grogu under his arm, his cloak protecting him from the elements. Din finally squints in the same direction at the faint outline of the domed city, as Grogu peers out, curious at the new surroundings.

Artoo makes a chirp, somehow managing to sound beleaguered. Luke sighs, turning around. He says for Din’s benefit, “He doesn’t like the sand.”

“This should be just like home for you,” Din says, and he’s rewarded by the sound of Luke’s laugh, raspy but whole. He breathes in the air of Mandalore, tastes the metallic tang even through the environmental filters of his helmet. “Are you all right to walk there?”

“I’m not the one who’s been soaked in bacta,” Luke reminds him in turn. “If you can, we should try to make haste to get inside the dome before nightfall.”

“What happens at nightfall?”

“I have a suspicion,” Luke says, “That the air might become much less habitable by then. But before I forget - “

He lifts his hand. Din’s not sure what he’s doing until he hears a clang coming from the ship.

His beskar spear comes floating out, coming to a stop in Luke’s hands. He honestly thought he’d forgotten it back in the cave, surprised that Luke had remembered it among everything else.

“I thought you would miss it,” Luke tells him. He hands it back, but not before Din thinks that it looks right in his hands, the way his fingers lace around the shining metal. He’s blaming the thought on the residual bacta as soon as it comes to mind, or maybe mild dehydration from the weather already.

“Thank you,” Din says, gratefully, putting it over his back once again, the comforting weight of it settling there. “We can go now.”

\---

They don’t make it far, though, before they have company.

Luke senses them, first. “There are others coming toward us,” he says, halting in his steps. Din runs his visor, searching, as he continues, “From the west - a whole group.”

“Mandalorians?”

  
  
“They’re not Force-sensitive,” Luke says, “That’s all I can tell.”

  
  
It takes a few moments, but with his direction, Din picks up the figures with the thermal sensors, barely distinguishable thanks to all the sand. The distinct shine of beskar, even from this distance, confirms his first guess. “They must have seen the ship go down.”

  
  
“They’ll be intercepting us soon,” Luke says, “Maybe they’re patrolling the area?” He doesn’t take out his lightsaber, but Din wonders if that’s a measured response rather than any comfort in their security. Artoo makes a concerning sound, moving around them, kicking up more of the sand.

There are ten of them, visible to the naked eye before long thanks to the dark, patchy metal that they don that stands in stark contrast with the orange earth. It strikes him that it’s been months since he’s seen this many Mandalorians. It had been a rare sight to gather in that number even back on Nevarro. Relief and dread fill Din in equal measures as they approach them.

He stands rigid, between Luke and Grogu and them, as they wait.

“Let me talk to them,” Din says when they’re nearly upon them, and Luke gives a nearly imperceptible nod. Grogu gurgles as Luke adjusts him on his hip, his forearm against Grogu’s torso to keep him safe against him.

The Mandalorians come to a stop before them, halting in unison. They’re clearly flanking them so that if they try to make a run, they’d be gunned down in seconds. Two of them, on either end of the line, have their blasters out already.

“Identify yourselves,” the Mandalorian in the center of the group says, addressing them in Basic.

“My name is Din Djarin,” Din answers, lifting his hand to slowly indicate the crest on his pauldron. “I was of the Tribe that was located on Nevarro.”

The Mandalorian takes off his helmet, and Din bites his tongue to hide the knee-jerk reaction he has to the sight. A second Mandalorian next to him follows, shaking her jet-black hair free and revealing horns that flare out from near her hairline. She steps forward along the other one, says something in a low tone that he can’t pick up.

The first man has pale grey eyes that flick between him and the Jedi, finally resting on where he’s holding Grogu. “You were raised in the Children of the Watch,” the Mandalorian states, when Din remains still. “You do not remove your helmet, do you?”

“That’s correct,” Din says, sounding stiff to his own ears. “Are there others from the planet here?”

The man ignores him in favor of asking, “What is your purpose for coming here?”

  
  
“I am a Mandalorian,” Din says, “And this is Mandalore. We seek refuge.”

  
“From more Imperials?” The man’s eyes stay on Grogu, now. In the corner of his eye, Din can see the wind pick at Luke’s cloak, making it billow around him and the kid. “We heard of the massacre on Nevarro.”

“The Imperials wished harm upon my child,” Din answers. “He is a foundling, and I am sworn to his protection.”

“And you?” the Mandalorian says to Luke, jerking his chin up at him.

“My name is Luke Skywalker,” Luke says, and Din’s not sure if he wishes he would have lied or not.

The man frowns. “You’re a Jedi for the Republic,” he states, and Din doesn’t need to be Force-sensitive to sense the hostility that bristles through the gathered Mandalorians at the words. “We have not seen your kind on Mandalore in at least a generation.”

“He has sworn to protect my child,” Din interrupts whatever Luke might have had to say in response to that. “He has protected me, and he acted with honor toward the Way.”

“We have heard of your cult beliefs on Nevarro,” the woman says coolly. “I would not expect someone like you to have such… liberal tendencies, associating yourself witha Jedi.”

“Cult is a strong word,” Luke says mildly. Din thinks, as loudly as he can, _please stop talking. G_ iven the shift of Luke at his side, he thinks he might have picked up on some of the sentiment.

  
“ _What is the Jedi’s relation to the foundling_?” the grey-eyed Mandalorian asks, now in Mando’a and looking at Din. Another one of the Mandalorians positions themselves, hand on another blaster.

He can sense the danger growing there, that he needs to choose his next words carefully. “ _We are his_ ,” and Din struggles in the language for a moment, only to settle on, “… _fathers. They are both parts of the Mudhorn clan of which I lead_.”

“ _The Jedi doesn’t bear your clan signet_ ,” the Mandalorian notes, all guttural vowels he can tell even through the language. 

“ _He does not wear the armor, either_ ,” Din says, then firmly, “ _Like you take off your helmet, he does not require the mark to demonstrate his affiliation_.”

There are whispers at that from the gathered Mandalorians. The woman’s eyes go to Luke, then back to him. She repeats, in Basic, “You claim a Jedi as part of your clan?”

Din can practically feel Luke’s surprise radiate out, without seeing his face. Powering forward, he insists, “My name and honor are theirs. They travel with me.”

“The founding, we accept as your offspring,” one of the other Mandalorians says. “But the Jedi - you can understand our concerns over his loyalties.” There’s muttering behind them - some in agreement, some questioning still. “We cannot let him stay.”

“Din,” Luke says, quietly from his side. “If they let you and Grogu go - “

  
  
“No,” Din says, cutting him off and causing the murmurs to silence. He reaches to his belt, and he pulls out the handle of the dark saber, too slow for it to be read as an attack before he’s drawing the blade.

He can hear the sharp intake of breath from multiple members of the group. “Din,” Luke says, again, barely audible over the hum of the saber. He can see the reflection of it in the beskar before him, as Din wields it in front of him, like he's demonstrating. He _really_ hopes that Bo-Katan hadn’t inflated the story of it at all.

“I am the rightful owner of the dark saber,” Din says, loud enough so the entire group can hear him say it. “That means I have a claim to the Mandalore throne - and that includes my clan, including the Jedi.”

The grey-eyed Mandalorian studies the blade, and then him.

The suspicion gives way in favor of something else, and as Din watches, he drops his head into a deep nod, neck curved. It’s a Mandalorian bow of sorts, one that would be visible even with full beskar on, one that Din hasn’t seen in years. Some of the older warriors would make the gesture at the Armorer, once upon a time, recognition of her implicit status even if they were a collective then with no official leader. 

The rest of the group follows, their eyes dropping down to the sand below them. The woman at his side is last, as she drags her neck into a grudging bow too.

“If you are the Mand’alor,” the Mandalorian says to him, “We will take you to the city. They have been waiting for you." 

\---

The Mandalorians lead them to the city, falling around them as they walk. Din stays alert, as Luke falls in just behind him, holding Grogu, the droid at their heels, the only sound around them being the heavy tread of the guard in sync. 

The sand smoothes out into a darker, well-tread path, long before they make it to a guard post just outside the main entrance, a fort of some sort built of pale stone. It's an unimpressive building in the shadow of the city, only he realizes that with the security presence there, it's some sort of entrance.

Inside the building, there's a hole yawning in the ground, large enough for a transport truck to pull through it. Din glances over to Luke, who doesn't seem to have any reservations about going forward, so he follows the Mandalorians into the ground. 

The tunnel itself is illuminated by some sort of crystal lamps, cooler than the outside air. He doesn't realize how far it takes them until they emerge through the other end, where they come up into the other side of the dome, into the city. 

The city stretches overhead, magnificent in its design. It looks like glass that’s been built out of the sand, the translucent walls curving to contain the buildings made of both metal and mudstone like the outside building had been. The glass consists of panels, the edges forming hard lines that arc overhead, coming to an abrupt halt at the ground. The sun filters through the glass, making colorful light stream down on them, as Din stares up at the architecture.

Inside the dome, the air has a lighter, cooler quality to it. It’s some sort of air processing system built into them if Din had to guess, keeping the atmosphere much more palatable to those in heavy armor.There are so many people that he can see, milling about inside. Many of them are in pieces of beskar, but some are too young or too old to be warriors, running around and existing like any other port. Some of them turn their heads, watching the procession go by. 

Din is nearly shocked out of his observations by the sensation of a hand wrapping around his wrist. Stepping next to him, Luke says, low so only he can hear, “There are so many more than I thought.”

  
  
“Me too,” Din admits quietly. “Bo-Katan must have brought them here, had entire families move back.”

“Do you recognize anyone?”

  
  
“No.” Din watches as a young girl - her face free of any scars or worry - chases after another child, disappearing behind a vendor’s stall. His throat gets tight, and he says, “I didn’t think this was possible here.”

Luke’s fingers tighten on his wrist. From under his arm, Grogu reaches for Din, and after a glance at Luke, Din accepts him, holding him on his good side. “What does it mean, if you’re Manda’lor?” Luke asks him in an undertone. 

“We’re about to find out,” Din says. 

Though not necessary anymore, Luke’s hand goes right back to holding his arm though, as though he doesn’t realize what he’s doing. Din doesn’t shake him off, finding that the gesture grounds him through it all. They stay that way as they walk through the city streets.

At last, they come across an impressive-looking building, all dark red walls that tower above the rest. There are two heavily armored guards positioned at the front, who meet them right there.

“You are Din Djarin?” one of them asks in Mando’a, and Din steps forward. “Bo-Katan wishes to speak to you.”

  
  
They’re not taking them directly inside, Din realizes, out of deference - to _him_. The dark saber is back at his belt, but the way that the guards wait for his answer, he thinks they might have already recognized who he was.

“I’ll speak with her,” Din says, and he looks back at Luke, translates, “Bo-Katan is already here.”

  
  
“I can wait here,” Luke offers, but Din shakes his head, tightening his grasp on the kid. 

“You should be there,” he says, “A lot’s gone on since the last we met.”

\---

The guards take them up to a balcony that overlooks the city. It's a tight spiral inside the building, stairs that Din is forced to take slowly, his side aching with every step, as Grogu makes quiet sounds into his cuirass. 

He recognizes Bo-Katan’s armor before seeing her face, sitting at one of the tables in the large room they're escorted to. With Luke and Grogu behind him, Din steps forward, Grogu still in his arms. There are more guards behind her, who stiffen at his approach, as Din keeps his free arm pointedly far away from his weapons. 

Bo-Katan stands at the sight of him - and the Jedi he’s brought with him, along with the kid, and finally the droid. What a group they must make, he thinks. 

Din greets her, already a little wary of her reaction. “Bo-Katan,” he says, “You’ve succeeded at bringing our people back to this planet.”

Bo-Katan’s hand is already on her blaster as she steps forward, a measured distance away. There’s a tension in the room, though, that Din can’t place. He wonders if this is it - that she’s going to challenge him for the dark saber now, and has chosen this place to do it. At her silence, he can only assume the worst. 

He can’t say he didn’t expect it. Not turning away from her, Din says to Luke, “Take Grogu.”

  
Luke does so, lifting him from Din’s side, as he steps forward. Din lifts his hands, in an attempt to placate, and her eyes flick over him. “We don’t need to fight,” he says, sounding as resigned as he feels, “The saber can be yours. I only ask for you to let us stay until we can fix the ship -“

Only when he steps forward, she doesn’t go into a defensive position at his approach like he'd assumed. Instead, Bo-Katan says curtly, “He’s a traitor.”

For a long, bizarre moment, Din thinks that she means Grogu. Then he sees how her eyes have moved past him, to the man holding him.

“ _Luke_?” Din says, incredulously.

“That man is not welcome on Mandalore,” Bo-Katan repeats, her voice hard. “He slaughtered hundreds of defenseless villagers at a camp on Jakku not two weeks ago.” Addressing Luke, she says, ”Put the Child down, now, and we’ll consider letting you live.”

Anger spikes up in him, and he can hear the droid whirring in turn. “You are mistaken - “

“I saw the footage from the wreckage myself,” Bo-Katan tells him. “I would recognize that face anywhere,” and one of her warriors, behind her, spits on the ground, in clear disgust. “His alliance is not one that we would ever accept.”

_Dank farrik_. The only clear explanation, as farfetched as it could sound, has to be the truth. “The Jedi has been with me for several weeks,” Din insists, “It’s not him you saw - " 

“There’s a clone,” Luke says, at his side. He steps forward, addressing her directly, “I suspect that he is under the control of a still-active Imperial faction like the one Moff Gideon led.”

“You let yourself be cloned?” Bo-Katan says incredulously.

“I assure you,” Luke says, “It was not intentional.” He lets his sleeve pull back, a little, and Din can see Bo-Katan register the gap where his hand should be. “We only came across that knowledge a day ago, when the clone attempted to kill the Manda’lor and kidnap his child.”

At the title, Bo-Katan’s eyes flick back to him. “So you’re not only seeking refuge,” she says, with an entirely different note in her voice, “You’re really here to claim your title. I thought it would be at least a few months before you decided to come.”

“I’m here because we have no other home,” Din says, starting to get tired of saying it. “Your guard found us out there in the desert, and I had to show them the saber to get through.”

Bo-Katan studies him. “You’re either being willfully obtuse,” she says, “Or you don’t understand what you being here means for our people now.”

At least being the Manda’lor doesn’t soften her words toward him, it seems. “I don’t need to understand,” Din says, again insisting, “I don’t want to lead your people - ”

  
  
“It’s not just up to you,” Bo-Katan tells him, tightly. “We will have to discuss that. But for now, we will organize quarters for you and your… clan.”

He bites back his first response because nothing good can come from a conversation where she's still regarding Luke with that level of high distrust. “Thank you,” Din tells her. That, and between the fight, the crash landing, and the desert walk, he’s not sure how much longer he can stave off his exhaustion to have that conversation in the first place. “Can we talk tomorrow?”

  
  
Bo-Katan nods once, tightly. "As you wish." 

“We require some medical supplies,” Luke says, though, stepping up beside him. “Not a med-droid, if that’s possible.”

Her mouth tightens, and she says with more difficulty, “You’ll have it.”

“Thank you,” Luke says, echoing him, “For your hospitality.”

His words, however, only make something in her eyes harden. “Mand'alor,” Bo-Katan says, like the words are being pulled from her unwillingly, before she, too, bows her head at Din.

\---

When they’re finally alone, Din sags against the interior wall of the room. They had been shown to the upper level of a building down the street, a decorated residential level that he is determined not to read into as any kind of _kingly_ residence.

The walls are intricately carved metal, as is the furniture - just the one bed, the guard had said apologetically, apologies, with another _Manda’lor_ as he’d left _-_ and it’s far nicer than the alternative of spending a night out in the questionably toxic desert.

Another Mandalorian had delivered them a pack with medical gear. Now, Din watches as Luke sorts through the equipment, Grogu already on one of the tall-backed chairs next to him, Luke’s discarded cloak providing comfortable padding on top of the metal. The kid’s chewing on his mudhorn amulet, which has stayed looped around his neck, inexplicably, all throughout this, as Din leans against a wall and finally lets himself breathe.

“Well,” Luke says, looking busy as he sets aside a package of bandages next to them, “The Alliance records on the dark saber seem to be accurate, too.” He’d plugged Artoo into one of the charging ports on the far side of the room, and the droid seems to have powered off in response.

Din lets his helmet clunk behind him on the wall. “I don’t want to lay claim to any throne.”

“It seems you have.”

“I’m not a king.”  
  


  
“I believe they think otherwise,” Luke points out. “How do your ribs feel?” 

“Not bad,” Din says, “We need to figure out what we’ll do - what?”

Luke had raised an eyebrow at him mid-sentence. Before Din can even think to react, he reaches out and lightly taps on his side. Even through the beskar, Din hisses out a sharp breath, stiffening all over. 

“Sorry,” Luke says, not looking at all apologetic, “But that does take immediate priority. Now, I can set these up and have you fix yourself in private, but you need to take care of it - “

It’s his turn to be cut off, then, when Din starts to detach his armor right there in front of him. The first vambrace slides of easily, and he sets it on the table next to them, before going for the second one. This, he can do.

Once again, Luke offers, “I’ll go - I figured you didn’t want a droid, but I don’t want to make you - “

  
  
“It’s fine,” Din says, and he focuses on losing the heavy plate rather than look at him, “You’ve seen my face already, after all.”

It’s far from the first things he remembers that day - so long ago, and yet not at all, when he had met Luke and had thought he would never see Grogu again. For a moment, he wonders if Luke remembers what he looks like. But those thoughts are pushed aside when Luke raises his hand, next, taking the second vambrace from him.

The cuirass comes next, Luke wordlessly helping him to unfasten it. With Luke’s assistance, Din slips it off ever so carefully, followed by his gloves.

Setting the cuirass down, Luke asks, “Can you bend over?”

Din’s a little afraid to try if he’s honest with himself. “I can leave them on for now,” he says, “It’s not a problem.”

“Would you let me help you?” Luke asks him. Din nods once, quick, not fully realizing what it entails until Luke is dropping to his knees in front of him.

Trying not to choke on his tongue, Din concentrates on everything else in the room - the curtains lining the thin glass window, the bed - which makes him jerks his eyes away, landing on Grogu, who’s unhelpfully asleep on the chair now - rather than look down to see where Luke’s head is bent, as he unfastens the armor around his shins, his boots, with one hand.

His mind utterly blank, he focuses on one of the tapestries hung on the opposite wall, next. He can feel how Luke’s fingers hesitate before they go around to the back of his thighs - and he’s clinical in his touch, but Din has to repress a shiver as he feels him even through the jumpsuit, ever so carefully taking off the armor as Din just stands there helplessly.

When Luke finally rises, Din’s just wearing the jumpsuit and his helmet. He doesn’t need to take the helmet off, strictly speaking, but finds his fingers going underneath it, bare fingers sliding along the beskar.

The air crackles with some kind of tension, as he starts to lift the helmet up, but then Luke says, “Give me a moment.”

  
  
Din stops, watching as he turns to pick up his robe. Before he can stop him, Luke tears a strip off from the hem using his teeth, before testing the length of it in front of him.

He realizes what he’s doing as Luke lifts the material to his face, pulling it over his eyes and tying it into a knot behind his head. Blindfolded, he reaches back and picks up one of the bacta sprays. “I can use the Force to sense things,” Luke says, “But I can’t exactly see if that’s enough for you.”

He’s touched by Luke’s consideration, more than he should be - and still, a tiny part of him wonders if he should tell Luke to take off the blindfold. But he’s not ready to consider that, so Din says, “It works for me.”

He lifts his helmet up and off his head, setting it down next to his other armor. No matter what Luke has seen before, to remove the helmet so casually in the light of day, when Luke could pull of the fabric so easily and take him in - it's another feeling entirely. For a moment, Din is captured by the thought of taking the fabric off him himself, reaching around, his fingers slipping in his hair, see in utter clarity how Luke might look when he looks him right in the eye -

“Can you get your jumpsuit off?” Luke asks him, interrupting his thoughts. The blindfold makes him look paler, even his mouth cast into a light shade of pink, as Din looks at him with bare eyes. He must be wondering what's taking so long, as he says, "It'll work best if I can apply it directly." 

  
Forcing himself to focus on the task at hand, Din is able to unzip the suit himself, clenching his jaw as he works the fabric down over the injured area, the pain nearly a welcome distraction. Looking down, he can see the ugly bruise forming over his ribs, dark red and slightly swollen, as he lets it fall low enough to expose his torso.

“The spray,” Din says, “Will it work on a break?” He's suddenly aware of his voice, unmodulated by anything else, as Luke tilts his head up in response. 

Luke uncaps the container with his thumb. “It might sting at first,” he answers, “But it’ll dissolve in your skin better than the gel. I’ve seen it heal much worse.”

  
  
He holds it out, and waits, Din realizes, for him to direct him where to apply it. “A little higher,” Din says. Luke complies, as he holds his arm up and out of the way, the skin taut, “Right there.”

  
  
The bottle makes a hissing sound, producing a fine foam that sends shivers down him, not even registering any sting as Luke bites his lower lip as if in concentration. As he watches him work, the pain melts away, as Luke glides the nozzle over his skin. He can feel the bruise receding already as he continues to apply it, only wincing ever so slightly when he gets to the tender area right over where the bone must've cracked. 

He looks up again. Luke is so close, that without his visor, Din can see the tiny mole just under his mouth. There’s a thin scar over his cheekbone, one that he hadn’t noticed before, disappearing underneath the blindfold, curving over the side of his face to his nose. Din has a scar like that on his lower back, where he'd had a run-in with an unruly quarry who had tried to knife him in a bar. He wonders what other scars Luke might have, as he registers the faintest sweat building in the hollow of his throat - from the weather, maybe, moving ever so slightly when Luke swallows. 

Din doesn’t dare move, even when the spray runs out. As the sound fades out, Luke reaches for the bandages beside them without hesitation. “That’s good,” Luke says, and Din feels the faintest puff of warm air on his neck at the words. “Keep your arms up - and hold this for me.”

He passes one end of the bandages to Din, who takes it. With his one hand, Luke winds the roll around Din’s torso, just tight enough to give him support while the bacta does its magic. In doing so, with every pass around him, Luke leans in to him, his chest and hand brushing against his bare torso. Din feels his own skin light up with every touch, the sensation unfamiliar. He’s not sure anyone’s ever touched him like this, so casually and without intent and yet he’s burning from it, impossibly rigid like the moment will shatter.

Luke tucks the end of the bandages where he started. “It’s not too crooked, is it?” he asks. 

  
  
“It’s perfect,” Din says, looking right at that mole under his lip. “Thank you.”

Luke smiles, and the blindfold conceals all but the faint ends of the lines that originate from the corners of his eyes. “Anything for the Mand’alor.”

That makes Din exhale, without thinking about it. The consequence is Luke’s mouth parting ever so slightly, feeling the slight push of air against him, like he hadn’t known how close he was to Din this entire time.

Maybe to distract him - or himself - Din says, “That title is only going to bring me trouble, I know it now.”

  
“We’ll figure it out,” Luke says. He remains standing there, his boots practically between Din’s bare feet if he were to look down. “You have me.”

Din nods, although he can't see it. They stay there for maybe a heartbeat too long, before Luke says, then, "I think there's a fresher adjacent to us in the hallway. I'll go find it," and he steps away, not even coming close to tripping on Din's legs, navigating the room as if he could see fully.

Din watches him go without a word. 

There's a hurried quality to the way he walks, though, like he's making himself leave. He catches sight of Luke's hand opening and closing as he makes his way through the door, no longer hidden by fabric, a certain twist to his mouth that he might think is hidden. Already, Din misses the sensation of his hands on him, and it's unexplainable for how he realizes it just then, the pieces finally coming together in his mind. It's like he's been circling the realization, trapped in its orbit, and now he knows what it is. And all he can think -

Across the room, Grogu makes the faintest snoring sound, turning over in Luke's cloak. And all Din can think is, _oh._

_\---_


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “May I ask you something?”
> 
> “Sure,” Din says, his voice coming out flatter than he intended. It doesn’t seem to perturb him, though. Around them, people glance at him the whole way they walk down the main street.
> 
> “Is it true that you were swallowed whole by a krayt dragon?” the man says, and Din very nearly misses a step.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy wednesday! once again, thank you all so much for the kind words ❤️
> 
> for this chapter I rlly expose how I drop the ball on worldbuilding in favor of some good ole tropes, post The Realization (for Din, at least.......). hope you're all staying safe & healthy, and enjoy this next part! let me know what you think :) 
> 
> (also officially over 40k now.... amazing how I thought this would be, like, 20k tops. love this for me and also them)

By the time that Luke gets back, Din has cleaned his armor free of all grime and that reddish sand. He sets the pieces on the table, right next to their lightsabers, the rest of his weapons laid out in an orderly line. Din adjusts the Jedi cloak around Grogu, still in the chair, hoping that it will serve as a makeshift crib until he can find something more suitable tomorrow. The kid curls up more in the fabric, looking content in his sleep.

Then he gets into the bed, and he waits.

Luke comes in, and the room is silent except for the faintest sound of his footsteps. The air has a humid tinge to it, the scent of earthy soap that he must have used in the fresher. They have no spare clothing with them for either of them to change into, and he can’t think of any other reason why he’s putting off rest now.

Unless - unless he had a similar revelation. Only his avoidance would suggest that if that were the case, his conclusion would be very different from Din’s. Din thinks that that would be the easiest solution if his feelings were unreturned. If they never spoke of it again - even if he knows better, that Luke would eventually feel compelled to bring it up. He’d probably offer an _apology_ , once he senses through the Force the intensity with which Din wants him, wants him at his side forever, how he craves the sensation of his hands on his skin even now -

He’d rather eat beskar than have Luke think that he's done something wrong, like the nature of Din’s affections are something that Luke himself would ever need to apologize for. 

Luke still hasn’t gone to the bed. Din mentally chides himself for thinking that it could only be about him, and he says, “It’s a big bed,” low, as to try not to wake Grogu. The footsteps hesitate, and he adds, “It’s not worth either of us sleeping on the floor.”

A moment goes by. Then the mattress dips, ever so slightly, to his left. Din feels rather than hears him lie down next to him, careful like he’s not trying to wake him up.

He turns his head, and Luke still has the blindfold on.“You can take it off,” Din says. The room is dark enough with the curtains pulled, and even with his injuries still healing, he’s sure to wake before him in the morning. 

  
“Your helmet’s still off,” Luke insists, “I don’t mind, for your comfort.”

He accepts this, and both of them lie side by side. Outside, there's still the distant hum that cities have, the faintest vibrations of movement throughout the room making his armor rattle ever so slightly. It's not enough to prevent them from sleeping, but he finds that it takes a while for him to start to get drowsy. 

Din can still hear Luke breathing just a little too uneven, suggesting he’s awake too. Eventually, Din says, “Bo-Katan’s not going to let me leave easily.”

Luke moves a little - his arm up to stretch across his stomach, he thinks. “I suspect as much,” he says, just as quietly. “Just as she'll want me far away from here."

“I told her we’re all together,” and he’s very careful not to let the word get trapped in his throat, “She’ll have to recognize that you have a right to stay with us.”

  
Luke says, “You said that earlier, to the guard - that we were of the same clan.”

  
His voice implies the question, rather than say it outright. “You are,” Din says, because regardless of his feelings toward Luke, _that_ doesn’t change how Grogu has both of them. That they’ve fought together to protect the kid, to protect each other, and Din would trust him with anything of his - he can tell himself that whatever his heart feels ranks below all of that. “If anything were to happen to me - “ and the words fail him for a moment, as he collects himself, “ - I’d want Grogu to be with you.”

“Of course,” Luke says instantly, his voice piercing through the dark. “I would never abandon him.”

“That’s all it means,” Din says, closing his eyes. “It means you’re a part of whatever comes next.”

He wonders, belatedly, if that says too much, presumes something between them. But he figures that it’s the right balance to his words, reassuring Luke’s place in their family without giving voice to his own personal feelings.

He’s not sure if Luke speaks again, as his eyelids grow heavier and heavier. Before he falls asleep, he thinks that Luke moves again, hears the tail end of his words - “ - part of that,” as Din finally falls asleep.

\---

The sun rises earlier on Mandalore, or at least compared to the last few planets and moons he’s been on. Din rises early enough to put on his armor, by himself now thanks to the bacta working its magic, with only some residual stiffness in his ribs and shoulder.

The droid chirps now long after sunrise, and then Luke gets up. His hair is mussed around the blindfold, the fabric pushing it down in a band around his head that doesn’t fully go away even when he removes it. Mindful of his restored vision so he’d be able to catch him staring, Din busies himself with waking up Grogu, making him use the fresher while Luke unplugs his droid and checks him over.

Before long, there’s a knock at their door. An unarmored man brings them food within a basket, and with it a message from Bo-Katan. “She’ll have one of her people show you to the strategy rooms in an hour,” he says formally to Din, “If that is acceptable.”

Din nods and sends him on his way with an affirmative message back to her.

Meanwhile, Luke and Grogu have begun to take out the items.Folding his arms in front of him, Din can’t help the fondness that blooms inside of him, watching Luke very carefully hand Grogu items to inspect.

Luke unwraps one of the bundles, bringing it up to his nose to sniff. “It’s some kind of pastry, I think,” he says, holding it out to Din. Grogu’s eyes follow it.

He can’t smell it through the helmet, but it rushes in his nostrils anyway, the sight of it sending him back nearly forty years. The word rolls right off his tongue. “ _Uj’alayi,”_ Din says, recognizing the thick, dark slice. “It’s sweet. My foster mother would make it for special occasions, with whatever fruit she could get.” He hasn’t had it since before he took the Creed.

Luke’s face softens. “Do you think she could be here?” he asks, pausing in taking out the foods.

He looks down at Grogu, who’s still pawing at the rest of the basket, and hesitates. “If she’s survived this long,” Din says, “And if I could even recognize her after all this time."

Luke nods. “No frog meat,” he tells Grogu at his side, then, who lets out a discouraged sound at the sight of the empty bottom of the basket, “Sorry.”

  
  
Din has to hide his snort at the sight of their matching expressions of regret.

He pushes up his helmet to eat with the two of them, the three of them sitting cross-legged on the ground. Grogu turns up his nose at the fruit, but gladly chomps down on the piece of _uj’alayi_ that Luke breaks off for him, as well as bits of dried meat. 

The taste is like Din remembers, too. Spicy and rich, chewier than other cakes, meant to last a long time in storage. Luke takes a bite of the cake, and Din has the distinct impression that he was unprepared for how sticky it was before he offers the rest of his piece to Din without a word. 

As they eat, Luke floats over the pitcher, and he pours them all cups of water. He says, “What do you think Bo-Katan wants to talk about?” as Din accepts a cup for him, another for Grogu.

  
  
“I can only hope that she’s come to her senses about accepting the dark saber,” Din answer. “More likely, she’ll be telling me about my obligations once again. Maybe she’ll also question why I brought a Jedi here, to complete the experience.”

Luke’s fingers curl around his cup. “Are you so against the idea of leading your people?”

  
  
“I doubt they’ll be welcome to the idea of someone from the Children of the Watch leading them,” Din answers. “Bo-Katan might have her ideas, but I doubt that it’s as simple as that.”

Luke nods, slowly. “I don’t mean to intrude, but do you want me to go with you after all?”

  
Din had honestly assumed that both Luke and Grogu would go with him, but he realizes that he had made the assumption without considering how Bo-Katan might look even more unfavorably on him for it. “No,” he says, resigned, “I’ll be fine. Thank you, though.”

“Of course.” Luke wipes his hands down on his robe, finishing a bite of fruit. Between them, Grogu tilts the cup too far, spluttering when the water runs down the front of his clothing. He blinks at the cup, looking overwhelmed.

Din steadies the cup for him, and he has the suspicion that he feels in a similar way. 

\---

The guard who arrives to guide him is a different man. He looks rather starry-eyed to be in Din’s presence, holding his helmet in his hands as he straightens at the sight of him answering the door.

Din turns to Luke before he goes. “Can you wait here?” he asks, quietly. He knows it’s not fair to ask him to stay trapped away in here, but the idea of something going wrong, and not knowing where they are - it chokes him, more than he’d like to admit, and certainly not in front of the guard.

“I will,” Luke says, sounding sympathetic like he’s heard Din’s inner plea. He reaches out to put a comforting hand on Din’s forearm, sliding his hand over the fabric. “We’ll wait here."

Din holds his arm, in turn, for a long moment, before he makes himself leave.

“ _Mand’alor_ ,” the guard says again, as they walk outside, “May I ask you something?”

  
  
He’s not sure anyone’s ever addressed him like that, nor looked at him that way. “Sure,” Din says, his voice coming out flatter than he intended. It doesn’t seem to perturb him, though. Around them, people glance at him the whole way they walk down the main street.

“Is it true that you were swallowed whole by a krayt dragon?” the man says, and Din very nearly misses a step.

“How did you hear about that?” Din demands - or at least nearly does, tempering his tone into something more dignified at the last moment.

The man’s face brightens. “I _knew_ it,” he breathes out,then, “Apologies, _mand’alor_ , but we heard of a Mandalorian who defeated the dragon. We thought it might have been you, after Bo-Katan told us about your travels throughout the system.”

“I had help,” Din says shortly. “And I just barely managed to kill it.” Somewhere, he just knows that Cobb Vanth is laughing at him. “Somehow, I don’t think that made it into her story.”

The man shakes his head, though, still in awe. “Is that the creature from your signet?”

Din’s glove goes to touch his pauldron at that. “It’s a mudhorn,” he says. “It almost killed me, too.” He thinks that might be a lot less impressive than the story of the slayer of a krayt dragon, whatever the man had heard.

But the man just says, “ _Mand’alor_ ,” again, respectfully.   
  


  
They come to another building, one that has pennants draped down the front. As opposed to where they had been quartered, this one has columns that stretch up, nearly as tall as the dome above their heads, all carved stone out front. 

Bo-Katan stands on the steps, watching their approach. When Din gets close, she says, “You came.”  
  


  
“I don’t have a ship anymore,” Din says in return.

“I thought you might have brought the Jedi,” Bo-Katan says, studying him, “I’m glad you didn’t.”

“He’s part of my clan,” Din says, steadily, because he won’t let this go on any longer if she won’t accept that, nor take another step forward. “Him and the kid, they’re going to be a part of whatever you want for me.”

“I understand,” Bo-Katan says, after a long pause, “Even if I don’t understand it.” She extends her arm, then, says, “Can I show you inside?”

Inside, the carved stone gives way to more of the metal that he’d seen before, creating a soothing kind of dark that’s illuminated by sculpted lanterns. There are very few people on their way in, the space growing quiet except for their footsteps echoing all around them. 

They emerge into a circular room, out onto a balcony. It overlooks a large table surrounded by chairs, surrounded by more of that odd combination of stone and metal twisted onto each other. He supposes that had it been full of people, it would be much more impressive to look - it could fit dozens, easily, not to mention all the standing space.

“This is where council meetings were traditionally kept,” Bo-Katan tells him, as Din peers down. “The throne is more a symbol than an actual chair, but the Mand’lor meets with his advisors in this room. It’s the heart of our planet, where the orders for war are given.”

He decides to cut right to the conversation he knows they need to have. “You still want me to be the _mand’alor_.”

“You wield the dark saber,” Bo-Katan replies coolly. “You already are.”

  
  
“It would be easier for you to take over,” Din says. “You have the support of your people. You oversaw them taking back the city, and you know the history of this planet, of our people - and apparently, you know about what I’ve been doing for the past few months already, somehow.”

“Our people need a leader,” Bo-Katan says, impatience finally coloring her tone. “You’re the krayt slayer. You destroyed a platoon of dark troopers, and you’ve cheated death dozens of times throughout the galaxy. I won’t apologize for using the tales of your adventures to rally our people behind your title.”

“It was the Jedi,” Din tells her, “Who destroyed the platoon, as I’m sure you recall.”

“He’s part of your clan,” Bo-Katan counters. “He acted under your orders, as far as the stories will say.”

“You seem fond of telling stories about me.”

“There’s power in words,” Bo-Katan says. “Who wouldn’t follow the man who tore apart the galaxy to find his son?”

“Even one from a cult?”

  
  
“They’ll call you traditional,” Bo-Katan says, “Perhaps some will welcome it.”

  
Din turns to look out over the room. It seems larger, now, under the weight of what he suspects will come next. “What do you want, really?”

  
  
“I’ll be one of your advisors,” Bo-Katan says like she’s been waiting for him to ask it, “Among anyone else you select. Under your rule, we will conquer more of the planet, start having others swear to the Creed. We rebuild, and we become Mandalorians, truly, once again.”

  
Her voice echoes throughout the chamber, as impressive as any leader. He puts his hands on the edge of the balcony, thinks of the man from before, the way he had looked at him like Din was already significant. 

“You have your plans,” Din says. He thinks his voice echoes just a little, or maybe it's the way he has to measure out the words, to make them count to her. “I don't know if you want a puppet or just someone else to take the heat. I'll help you, but I won't break the Creed to do so."

“You’re many things, Din Djarin,” Bo-Katan tells him, “But you’re not easily manipulated. This is a partnership for the better of our people, plain and simple.”

Like anything could be simple. He should've thrown the dark saber out of an airlock while he still had the chance. Din lets out a long breath. “The Jedi will stay on the planet as long as he wants, along with my son. Those are my terms.”

“I understand,” Bo-Katan says, her voice now as polished as any politician. “They are the family of the Mand’alor, after all.”

“Luke’s clone,” Din says, facing her. “He’ll find us eventually. The Imperials are still searching for Grogu. What happens when they find out we’ve taken refuge here?”

“This city was build to withstand sieges from the Jedi,” Bo-Katan tells him. “I doubt there’s another place in the galaxy that would protect you any better. Most of them would take personal pleasure in killing that clone, after what he’s done.”

“He’s powerful,” Din says, “He nearly killed both of us when we came to blows.”

  
  
“Everyone has their limit,” Bo-Katan answers. “And the next time you meet, you’ll have an army of Mandalorians at your back.”

\---

The city is called Parjain, now, from the word in Mando’a for victory. “It had another name,” Bo-Katan had told him, “With its rebirth, we gave it a new title.”

It had been occupied by Imperials, the remnants of which were either killed or chased out on her orders. She gives him a datapad with maps of the city and the rest of the planet without him asking, likely an implicit acknowledgment of his lack of knowledge about the place, which he is privately grateful for.

She also tells him about the location of the remaining Children of the Watch. They’ve sequestered themselves in one area of the city in particular, and while she doesn’t know the identities of those from the Tribe like he does, she suggests that he go there. “It would be good,” Bo-Katan says, significantly, “If you were to remind them that we are all Mandalorians, together now.”

He doesn’t have to go far, it turns out, the map telling him he's already nearby. He’s on his way back to the quarters where he’d left Luke and Grogu when he spots a familiar helmet, its owner sitting at a table polishing weapons.

Din thinks his eyes must have tricked him, for a moment, until the head turns. Then it’s undeniable.“Paz _?”_ Din says, loud enough that he can hear.

The helmet shifts to look at him, and it is him. “ _Djarin_?” Paz echoes, rising to his feet at the sight of him.

Relief floods through him, that if Paz is here, there may be more of the Tribe made it too. Din comes up to him, and Paz returns his one-armed clasp, his movements abrupt like he’s been stunned at the sight of him.

“I wasn’t sure if you made it off Nevarro,” Din says, “It’s good to see you here.”

  
  
“Many of us didn’t,” Paz tells him, his voice tight with emotion, “You still have that kid?”

  
  
“I do,” Din tells him, “He’s safe, thanks to you and the others.”

“That is the Way,” Paz says, his voice an echo of every time he’s heard it, with pure sincerity, as he lets Din go at last. “It’s good to see you here.”

There are a few other Mandalorians with him who look at them, and Din recognizes them as fellow Tribe members - ones that he had known in passing, now nodding at him. To Paz, Din asks,“Do you know - did the Armorer make it?”

  
  
“She’s on-planet, but she was sent to scout out the mines,” Paz answers, his expression inscrutable behind his helmet. ”She should be back in a few day’s time with the others. She will be glad to know that you are here.”

“Bo-Katan sent them away?”

  
  
“She did,” Paz says, and his distaste is clear as he says, “She removes her helmet, along with the rest of them."

He wonders what Paz would think, that since the last time they met, Din has removed his helmet not once but twice in front of others. “Are there many of us from the Tribe here?”

“There are a dozen of us left,” Paz says, and Din closes his eyes, briefly. More than he had dared hope, and still, so few that made it. “How did you make it here?”

Din considers how he’s going to answer that. But before he can, Paz must see the guards across the street, the ones that have been trailing him since he left Bo-Katan. “Who are they?”

There’s no easy way to break this news, he thinks. Din says, “They’ve been sworn to protect whoever sits on the throne.”

Paz says, more haltingly, “Are you the _mand’alor_?”

  
  
“On a formality,” Din admits, already seeing Paz step back. “It’s a… recent development.” The other Mandalorians look at him, too, in dead silence. 

After a moment, Paz just says, “ _Mand’alor.”_ It’s strange, to hear someone who he would spar with to address him with such distance. “This is… unexpected.”

“I’d like to catch up,” Din says, then, “Later, to hear what you have gone through since we last met. If you’d like.”

“Of course,” Paz says, his voice still odd through the modulator. “Much has happened, after all.”

\---

Din makes it back to their quarters, and he’s still walking down the hall to the room when he hears Luke’s voice coming through the door.

“ - know he’s here,” Luke says, his voice muffled. Din opens the door to see Grogu babbling excitedly, already reaching for him like he’d known he was coming.

Behind the kid, Luke smiles and, says, “He’s getting much better at sensing others.”

Din picks him up, Grogu grabbing at his helmet with insistent fingers. “I’m back, kid,” he says, holding him up to his chest with the ease he’d lacked yesterday. To Luke, he says, “Thank you for waiting.”

But Luke looks past him, at the guards in the hallway, with a raised eyebrow. Resigned, Din says, “Bo-Katan insisted.”

“Ah,” Luke says, as Din steps in. “Is there to be a coronation of some kind, then?”

  
“I already hold the title,” Din says, closing the door behind him so they have some privacy, at least. “She wants me as a figurehead to bring them all together. Apparently, she’s been planning for this for a while, spreading stories about us.”

  
  
“And you agreed?”

  
  
Din concentrates on Grogu for a moment, as he goes to sit down on the bed, balancing him in his arms. “I couldn’t exactly turn her down. I still don’t want this, but it means that as long as we’re here, we’ll be protected against your clone and the Imperials.”

Luke crosses his arms, leaning against the door. “The Imperials, yes,” he says, “But my clone would tear apart most of the warriors here. That’s not to disparage any of your kin, but to be realistic on that fight - we’ll need more than numbers.”

  
  
He’s right, unfortunately, but it’s an issue that they both know there won’t be an easy solution for. “We’ll figure it out,” Din says. “I found others from Nevarro who made it here too.”

  
“I’m glad they did,” Luke says, and he crosses the room to sit down on the bed beside Din, their shoulders brushing. He finds that the touch soothes him even through the armor, grounding him despite all that presses on his mind. “I should tell you, too. While you were gone, I reached out - and there are Force-sensitive people here.”

  
  
Din turns to look at him better. “Here in the city?”

“They weren’t trained enough so I could identify them, or exactly where they were,” Luke admits, “But I think if I could let those know that I can teach them more - I could offer that.”

Din wonders that Bo-Katan would think, of a Jedi trying to train Mandalorians the way of the Force. One problem at a time, he thinks. “About that,” he says, “Bo-Katan wants me to put together a council. She’s appointed herself, already, but for the rest - I’d like your help.”

  
  
“Anything,” Luke says immediately, tempered with a cautious look just as quickly. “Although I’m not quite sure what knowledge you think I’d have on the matter.”

  
  
“You understand people, though,” Din says, reading something in Luke’s expression that makes him hurry to say, “I’d appreciate your counsel. I need someone whose priorities I know, and who isn’t trying to get a seat at that table, honestly.” He’s already heard - and witnessed - some of the evident tension from Paz about the other groups, as well as the political situation that Bo-Katan had alluded to.

“Of course,” Luke answers, and his brow smoothes out. “For a moment, I was worried that you were asking me to be on that council.”

“Not one of your ambitions?”

“I thought it would be a little too controversial for your new reign,” Luke says, “Not to mention - what’s so funny?”

He doesn’t bother asking how Luke knew he was hiding his laughter under his helmet. “I’m just imagining the look on her face if I were to suggest a Jedi sit beside her,” Din tells him. He’s suddenly compelled to add, “Still, I wish I could have you there.”

“Luckily for her, I’m more of a farmer than a politician,” Luke says, his knee nudging against Din’s. It stays there, as he adds, “I’d be happy to help. So, are you going to show us around the city?”

\---

They set back out in the late afternoon when the fierce sun has cooled off a little. Din carries Grogu at his side, with Luke walking on his other, as they make their way down one of the main streets.

If he had gotten looks from some of the people earlier, now, it’s definitely intensified by the two of them, along with the guard faithfully following them several paces behind, in a true kind of royal procession.

Unlike their initial welcome into the city, though, this time, the hesitation to approach him seems to have died. Din finds himself stopped every few feet by people wanting to know his intentions as the new Mand’alor, the guards alert behind him but evidently not seeing any threat from their curiosity.

He gives up trying to give any polished answer in favor of brutal honesty after the first few. “I’ve never been here,” Din tells a trader who wants to know if he’s going to dedicate the new buildings towards the heart of the city for commercial purposes. 

“I will… let people continue to act on their own discretion,” on whether he’s going to make adoption or having offspring mandatory according to some archaic law.

“I won’t make any decisions until I know more about it.“ Flatly, to the woman who had insisted on corning him to ask him if he’s going to open up trade with the New Republic.

“No,” to the man who had sidled up and asked him if he was married. He had stepped away rather quickly from him.

“My Creed says that I keep it on,” to the child who wants to know if he really never takes his helmet off.

Luke takes Grogu at one point, while Din is occupied by three teenagers who are much too excited about his armor. Over their heads, Luke mouths, _you’re doing well_ , brushing against him as he moves on past the group. Din feels a warmth grow inside him that has nothing to do with the sun overhead.

His answers do seem to satisfy most of them, though. It turns out, most Mandalorians do value him being straightforward with his answers, even if they’re mostly him admitting that he has much to study. He’s going to have to do _research_ , he thinks dimly, the thought sending him back to the few years of mandatory schooling he’d had as a youngling.

  
He finally catches up with Luke and Grogu at one of the vendors down the street, finally shaking off the teenagers to join them in one of the open stores. He’s talking to the woman there, nodding thoughtfully as she points across the street at something he can't see. 

Luke, inexplicably, is wearing a cream-colored poncho that drapes down over his arms, the material flipped up as he holds Grogu in his useable arm. Din’s not sure he’s ever seen him not in such a light color, though he’s much more taken with how the worried lines that have plagued his face over the past few days have faded. As if sensing his eyes on him, Luke meets his, and Din crosses the street to get to them. 

“Do you like it?” Luke says in lieu of a greeting, tilting his shoulder down so that Din can see how the fabric shifts over him. “Reminds me of what my aunt would have us wear in the desert. This is much nicer than what she’d sew, though. Can you ask her how much it is?”

“It looks good,” Din says before he can bite his tongue. He turns to the woman behind him, asks in Mando’a, “What do I owe you?”

“It’s a gift,” she says to him, “To welcome you to the city.”

“I insist - “

“Your _riduur_ is handsome in our wares,” the woman says with a knowing look, and Din absolutely does not know what to say to that. She reaches out to touch Grogu’s ear from his place nestled under Luke’s arm, and he makes a chirping sound.

Din says, in Basic for Luke’s benefit, “Many thanks.”

Luke’s still smiling when Din glances over at him, and he’s never been happier to not have that _farriking_ droid around to translate. “She pointed me in the direction of something I’d like to see,” Luke says then, and he turns to walk down the street as if knowing Din will follow him.

He does, ducking into the alley that Luke cuts into, likely to his guards’ consternation.

It brings them around the set of buildings, much quieter without the people asking him questions. The street is much less busy, and the area appears to have been under some construction recently. There are blaster scorch marks on some of the buildings, likely remnants of the occupation or takeover.

Luke stops in front of one of the buildings, and he gestures in front of him. It appears to be an abandoned building, two stories tall, without any door at the front. As the guards stop behind him, Din says, slowly, “What am I looking at?”

  
“It was a school once,” Luke says, and the excitement is clear in his tone as he adds, “She told me all about it when I inquired about how youngling education works here. I’ll have to learn the language, but once I make sure no one actually owns it, it could serve as the place.”

  
  
Din is still lost. “The place for…?“

  
  
“For my academy,” Luke says, and between the way that he tilts his head, and Grogu mirrors the gesture, Din gets dizzy for a moment. He continues, “If we’re to stay here, I would need a place to teach, after all. And it’s big enough that I could take on several padawans - my students - house them here, maybe. I know there’s a lot we need to overcome before I can make off-world trips to bring others back, and you’ll have to propose it all to the right people, when the time comes - but it’s a start, isn’t it?”

  
Only one piece of that explanation stays with him, though. “You’re staying,” Din realizes, “After we deal with your clone - you want to stay here, on Mandalore?”

  
“Well, yes,” Luke says, slowly, “Did you think I was going to leave?”

He hadn’t dared think that far ahead. If he had to guess on the future, when they weren’t running for their lives, he thought that Luke might return to Yavin with Grogu. Din would visit occasionally, sure, but the idea of him staying here, both of them close -

“I did,” Din blurts out, but finds the other words too hard to voice. Grogu’s blinking up at both of them, as he gets out, “I didn’t think you would want to.”

For a brief moment, he panics, thinks it might sound like he doesn’t want Luke on this planet for any longer than necessary. Rather than look upset, though, Luke just looks exasperated. “You assumed I’d take Grogu and leave, just like that?”

“It was my mistake,” Din says, hoping to move on past it, but the Jedi seems to have other ideas.

Stepping closer to him, Luke asks, “Did you not tell me that I’m a part of whatever comes next?”

  
  
"You are.” This close, Din can nearly imagine the scent of that earthy soap again, that he had woken up to. 

“That I’m a part of your clan?”

  
  
“Of course - “

  
  
“Din Djarin,” Luke says, and his use of his name makes something zip down his spine, “As long as both of you are here, I will be here.”

“I understand,” Din says, and he swallows. Luke studies his helmet as if he can see right into his eyes at that, and seems satisfied when Din cannot - even if he had the words - say anything else to that. 

“Good,” Luke says, then hoisting Grogu up a little higher on his hip. He’s got a speculative look in his eye, then, as he says, “I’m glad we’re on the same page. What does that datapad of yours say about this block?"  
  


\---

**Author's Note:**

> drop by on tumblr to say hi! I'm @villanellve


End file.
